She Wanted To Die
by sidewalk serfer girl
Summary: Look for Leadbelly: She wanted to die ....it's the second half of the story...
1. She Wanted To Die

-

**I tried to do handstands for you  
But everytime I fell for you  
I'm permanently black and blue  
Permanently blue for you.**

-

She knew she was acting like a child. She shot the gun like she was ringing a bell.

_Look at me. I don't want you to go._

And then he disappeared, swallowed up by the dark cavernous mouth of the ship's hangar. She wondered now what else she would have expected him to do. When had anyone in this goddamn bachelors' den paid any real attention to anything she'd ever had to say?

She supposed what she'd initially liked so much about this whole arrangement was that she welcome to come and go as she pleased. But, of course that meant that they could all come and go as they pleased. She hadn't seen Ed or the dog in some time. She guessed they'd been gone for some time. And now Spike, too...

There wasn't any point in her trying to follow him, and not just because she'd suddenly felt like she'd lost her legs. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Instead she took her time collecting herself before turning and heading back to the sofa. She'd be up all night thinking about her next move. Jet couldn't be expected to take care of her forever. It was different when it was the three of them. She'd always sort of felt like Katharine Ross to their Newman and Redford ever since she and Jet had watched the film together late one night. She vaguely remembered Spike being there, too, passed out and snoring at the other end of the couch.

She sat back, sinking into the cushions tiredly. She wiped away the last of her tears before catching sight of a grey t-shirt lying half under the armchair. It clearly belonged to Spike – it was far too narrow for Jet's broad frame.

_Belonged to..._

She glanced down at her white and sinewy arms, the ones that couldn't make him stay even while holding a gun to his head. She thought about his hands, fingers long like spider legs. She remembered with little effort the time he accidentally touched her cheek, held her hand, with those fingers.

It happened one afternoon in Sulcus on Ganymede. They'd been watching a bounty having a beer at a local bar from a coffee shop across the street. She'd only just eaten a huge slice of cake slathered with vanilla icing, which later resulted in a crippling mid-chase cramp. Spike had reached back behind himself in an effort to drag her along with him. Feeling around for her, he'd accidentally brushed his fingers along her jaw, touched her lips before finally capturing her wrist. He finally grabbed hold of her hand, dashing forward.

She knew he was just making sure she kept up with him so they wouldn't lose their bounty. But despite that, the wide-eyed girl Faye kept hidden deep inside thrilled and blushed at the memory of the touch as though Spike had intended it.

Faye wasn't sure how the t-shirt had ended up in her hands, but she laid it flat across her lap and smoothed out the wrinkles with her fingers. _This whole thing is my fault_, she thought. _I shouldn't have told him about seeing Julia. He's going off to die and it's my fault._

She held the shirt up in front of her. It was only hours ago that she'd come to the pitiful yet fitting conclusion that this was where she belonged. She'd come a long way to enjoying their company and suspected that Jet and Spike might have felt the same way, though they'd probably have admitted it aloud as readily as Faye would have. But Jet always set a place for her when there was food to be eaten. Jet always set some clean, freshly folded towels aside for her without calling too much attention to it. More than once she'd woken up in the big, orange armchair to find a blanket had been draped over her in her sleep. Jet always joked about how she was an intruder on his ship, but little things like that suggested to her that she was part of a family. Well, not exactly a family, but a reasonable facsimile. It was as close as she was ever going to get to belonging somewhere.

At the other end of the spectrum, Spike would bang on the door of the bathroom and shout at her about using up all the hot water. He'd stomp around like a child mid-tantrum whenever she accidentally misplaced his zippo. He'd smoke her last cigarettes and silently watch her losing her mind trying to find out what happened to them.

While Spike never went out of his way to physically shove Faye off the ship and out into cold, dark space, he put an equal amount of effort in ever knowing or understanding her. He tried to hide his selfishness behind Jet alot. Like it wasn't his own best interests he was trying to protect. Spike was just trying to keep his ol' friend Jet from being taken advantage of.

_Earn your keep_, he'd say. _That pretty, painted face of yours isn't any kind currency you can get away with using on this ship._

She leaned her face into Spike's shirt and sighed. She inhaled slowly, exhaled then inhaled again.

_No._

She opened her eyes softly and they prickled with tears.

Ever since memories resurfaced that afternoon in the shower she'd become much more aware of the sounds, scents, and textures around her and how they might connect her to her past. The scent woven into the fabric...

It was the same as that of the blanket she'd woken up under countless times after falling asleep in the armchair.

_It wasn't Jet. _

_It was him._

She bit her lip hard, aching inside. That blanket belonged to Spike.

_It was Spike._

She wasn't prepared for it. She wasn't prepared for the consequences of the actions of her heart. The realization of her true loss hit her hard and fast.

_Goddammit._

She threw the t-shirt from her hands, trying to put some distance between them.

She hadn't thought it would be Spike's self-destruction she'd mourn. Selfish and self-absorbed to the very end, that's what he was. Idiots never learn until they're dead. She'd told herself it wasn't him she'd miss; it was them. The four of them. A family. And that was still part of it, but...

She chuckled bitterly, glaring at the t-shirt lying in a heap across from her as though he were still in it. She loved him.

She was in love with him.

Idiots never learn until they're dead, and Faye Valentine wanted to die.

-

**Lyrics quoted from Chairlift's _Bruises_. Don't sue, please. I do not own Cowboy Bebop. Hell, technically I don't even own the jeans I'm wearing.**


	2. Her Pretty Face

-

**Sometimes you just explode and no one alive can break your code  
You have a language of your own, an unconnected road  
The people you called your friends, the places you won't go again  
The decades lost in finding them, you'll have to let them go.**

_-_

_This is all wrong._

For one thing, his two eyes match. That's not right, is it? One of the only things she knows about Spike -- the only piece of real information he's ever divulged -- is that he has two mismatched eyes.

_Had_ mismatched eyes.

Maybe the doctors had to replace one of them, or something. Faye isn't sure she knows why Spike's eyes had been two different colours in the first place. Was he born that way? Did he lose one eye, and now he's lost the other?

Maybe the hospital folk tried to do something nice for him. Maybe there's been some sort of advance in artificial eye technology and so the hospital people gave him a reboot.

_Pfft. Who the hell knows._

_Oh, wait. I remember now._

One had been lost in an accident or something like that. It had only happened two days ago and she's already forgotten most of the conversation. Mostly because she'd thought he was going to be walking through the valley of the shadow of death, et al, and she figured she had been the one to lead him there.

_It's all my stupid fault. He'd always joked that I was going to get him killed one of these days, but neither of us had any idea..._

She's coped with her guilt by repressing the whole thing. She lets his eyelid fall closed again. Now that it looks like he might be okay, she's sort of back to her usual self. She sits at his bedside, fixing her nails, trying to look semi-unnerved. Her nails don't really need any work but it's a show she'll put on for his benefit. Or hers, rather. If he comes to, she wants to seem indifferent.

_Not in love with him._

She's been in this exact same spot before; sitting by him while he's bandaged up and incapacitated. Last time he had fallen through a window. She had originally thought that was her fault, too. After all, it was her he'd gone to rescue.

But Faye eventually came to realize that it had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was probably all about Julia.

_God._

She had seemed really cool, just like Spike. Cool clothes, lustrous hair that lapped about her shoulders like waves, cherry lips, blue eyes and eyelashes that went on for miles -- a woman straight out of one of those pulp fiction novels. She was the sort of woman Faye's tried to be, or at least the front she's tried to put up for other people. Sleek, sexy, powerful -- like a pistol or a sports car. A woman no man would mess with.

But if Spike and Julia were meant to be together, what the hell had kept them apart? How much could they possibly have loved each other to let so much distance fall between them?

Faye knows that if there was someone out there who could love her the way she believed Spike loved Julia, she'd kill to be near them.

Right now she has some crazy, whacked out, nut-bar kid who seems to be crazy about her, but Faye hasn't the foggiest idea what's happened to her. She hasn't seen Ed for days. The dog's never really liked her all that much, so Ed's sort of all she has. Or had, rather. A little sister, of sorts. Spike and Jet have been more like parents in some freaky, dilapidated family. An old married couple always telling her what she should and shouldn't do.

_Don't use up all the hot water. _

_Don't leave your underwear out where we can see it. _

_Feminine hygiene products don't belong in the toilet. _

Spike's never made it a secret how much he hates kids, and animals, and tomboys. She's never liked being lumped in with the dog, but she's tried to pick her battles. As far as her two comrades are concerned, Faye's still on probation.

She no longer has any idea what part Spike plays in her life now. She likes to believe that the whole "I'm in love with him" thing was just grief talking. Some lapse in mental capability, or something. For two seconds she thinks it probably would have been better for her if he had just died. But he's come back from death so many times; she figures she shouldn't have been surprised he's managed to find his way back yet again.

Jet had told her about some stupid cat story. She hates cats about as much as she hates metaphors. Dogs, at least, are devoted to you. They follow you about and wag their tails when you rub their bellies. Well, she sort of figures that, anyways. Ein never lets her get anywhere near him. Cats don't give a shit either way. If you don't feed them on time, they piss in your bed. According to Jet, Spike was tiger-striped. Julia was white. What sort of cat would Faye be?

_I hate cats._

Spike stirs slightly and Faye sits up straight. She quickly begins rubbing at her nails with the buffer. When he lies still again, the tension in her muscles ebb. She smiles, feeling smug.

He probably thinks he's dead. She chuckles bitterly when she thinks of how disappointed he's going to be when he wakes up. He probably thinks it was all so cool -- dying for love and revenge, and all that schmaltzy martial arts crap.

_Some martyr._

She wonders if he's dreaming of heaven right now. He's probably with Julia. What's it going to be like waking up to a world without her? Where someone supposedly good and beautiful can die and someone slimy and wretched like herself could survive?

-

Lyrics quoted from The Magnetic Fields' _All You Ever Do Is Walk Away_. Please don't sue.


	3. Hymn for the Alchohol

-

**A white blank page and a swelling rage  
You did not think when you sent me to the grave  
You desired my attention but denied my affections  
But tell me now, where was my fault  
In loving you with my whole heart?**

-

"That stupid son of a bitch," Jet mutters through grit teeth.

"That's a 'no' then, right?" Faye replies wryly.

Faye isn't too taken aback when their connection cuts out. He's still pretty volatile. The public communicator's screen sputters into silence. All that's left of Jet is a white dot. Faye takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nostrils.

"Stubborn..."

Faye slinks tiredly back into Spike's room, leans her chin into her palm after settling back on the window sill. Jet had been the one to inform her of Spike's return to the land of the living, but he hasn't been to see him yet. Not that there was a whole lot to see. It's just pasty, rail-thin, comatose Spike looking much like he does whenever he was lying on the couch. Of course, all that aside from the bruises, bandages and tubes.

And it's been eons since she's been called a wench.

"Pig," she spits, glaring at him.

She's been here for two days now. When she isn't sitting by his bed she's down the street at that bar - Vinyl or Nylon something-or-other. She'd sit in a booth and wait for guys to buy her drinks. Her breasts sometimes get in the way of proper combat techniques, but they come in handy when she's broke and needs the alcohol.

Spike, meanwhile, is still wherever the hell he goes when his eyes are closed.

Jet's still touchy about being ditched for a woman. He's old school that way. Some sort of good-old-boy rule's been broken, as far as he's concerned.

Faye is still feeling pretty stung, herself. She isn't quite sure why she's still here. For some reason she thought that maybe it would be a good idea to be nearby when Spike woke. Maybe so that he wouldn't think there isn't a thing left for him. Like he would be thrilled to open his eyes and see her there, she thinks sarcastically. She knew she wasn't the one he wanted to wake up to. She's been careful –more than once she's started, and abruptly stopped herself from singing.

A couple of times over the course of the past forty-eight hours Spike had flat-lined. The second and third time it happened, she'd been mentally and emotionally prepared. The first time it happened, though, she actually prayed. She wasn't entirely sure what she was praying to, but she had stumbled out into the hallway as the hospital people did their thing and slumped to the floor, bringing her knees to her chin. She pressed her hands over her ears and shut her eyes.

"Please..." she breathed. _It's my fault._

_It's not your fault he's an idiot who fell in love with the wrong girl._

Whenever there was any mention of Julia's name he'd go rigid all over. Sometimes he'd leave the room under the guise of checking up on dinner or needing some coffee. Faye had learned not to speak of Julia in Spike's presence, at the expense of her feelings of self-worth.

Like just about everything else, Faye Valentine learned the hard way.

She can't remember now what they had been chatting about when it came up. It didn't mean anything. They joked about their perpetual rotten luck with the opposite sex often enough that he should have known better than to think she'd actually been out to hurt him.

"If this Julia of yours is really all that wonderful she's probably found someone else by now. We have needs to, you know." It was just a stupid little nothing of a comment. It wasn't meant to be malicious. He'd made countless jokes about her would-be relationship with Whitney.

Spike was quiet for a second, and the silence made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. His eyes narrowed.

"Let's get one thing straight. You and Julia are not 'we'. You and Julia are miles away from being in the same class. And another thing; I've always thought you were a bitch, but never so much as now -- hearing the name of someone like her fall on the lips of someone like _you_," he'd hissed. She wondered if she'd just caught him on a bad day. Maybe it was too soon after they'd all returned from Calisto. Still – that whole thing had been just as hard on her as it had been on Spike.

_I think._

She hadn't mentioned Julia since. Well, not until a few days ago anyways.

_Fuck him._

Let Romeo have his stupid Juliet.

-

Lyrics quoted from Mumford & Sons _White Blank Page_. Please don't sue.


	4. Starbucked

-

**All you want to do is sit around and pout  
And now I got enough, so I'm getting out  
I'm leavin' now, I'm leavin' now  
I'm a long gone daddy  
I don't need you anyhow**

-

Jet wandered about the ship looking for things that needed to be done. He needed to keep himself busy, to stop thinking.

What he should have been doing was celebrating his new lone gunman status by lying on the couch and watching some old Duke movie. But sitting still would just get him thinking again, and then he'd get angry.

_Or worried. _

He knew it was Spike's own sort of means of suicide, although he'd never admit it. It looked like he just didn't have the balls to kill himself, so he'd go out and find someone to get the job done for him.

_I was in love too, once. I made it out alive. _

Here he was thinking about him again. Morons, the lot of them. Those two had always done this to him and they'd continue to if he kept letting them in again. He thought about being the one who left this time, not thinking enough about them to ever look back. He thought about leaving them all behind. For the past few days that's all that had been on his mind. He was getting soft in his old age. That's what it was.

He slurped at some cold freeze-dried noodles he'd found in the main room. Or the 'lounge' as Faye would call it. _Stupid woman._ It was a big room with a couple of couches. This ship had no _lounge_. There was really no need. Spike was never particular about where he did his lounging. He'd lie about anywhere. He could fall asleep hanging from a meat hook in a freezer. Jet shook his head, smiling at the image.

He promised himself he wouldn't take them in again, that there'd be no place for them when they returned. They'd all walked out on him, like unruly teenagers defying curfew, not calling to let him know if they were okay when he was up at three a.m. like someone's mother in a housecoat and curlers...

_Where the hell am I going to go?_

The possibilities seemed both endless, as he had all the time in the world, and limited at the same time. This bounty hunting thing had proved to be fruitless. He couldn't possibly get a job at this point in time. He had already swept his share of floors. He'd done the work bit; going to school, training, learning. He'd already been there, and this is where it had all lead to -- Sitting alone on a big empty, ship sucking up mushy noodles, and worrying about a couple of idiots out on the town. Usually Ein would have kept him company at times like this, or the bleeping and squeaking of Ed on the computer. But it was just him tonight. And much to his dismay, he really, _really_ hated it.

His mobile communicator rattled out a weak signal. He knew it was probably Faye again trying to convince him to go and see Spike.

"Julia's dead. He has no one," she'd said, almost sounding like she really cared. "You're his only friend. Look at me. I loathe him like sand in my panties, but I'm still here."

It had been the third or fourth time she'd tried to convince him. It had also been the third or fourth time she'd been hung up on.

Jet let the alert run on for a few minutes. He watched the light blink green. He didn't feel like listening to her spiel again. He would leave soon. He'd leave all this garbage behind him. Because the difference between Jet and a mother in a housecoat is that the mother in a housecoat would have still given a shit.

-  
Lyrics quoted from Hank Williams' _I'm a Long Gone Daddy_. Please don't sue.


	5. Hymn for the Cigarettes

-

**So, so happy  
When happiness spells misery  
And mister me hoping to be  
Where ugliness meets beauty  
Hope if you'll see  
The demon in you  
The angel in me  
The Jesus in you  
The devil in me**

-

Someone's opened him up to turn him inside out.

As much as he tries to fight it, it's changing him into something different.

_Julia. _

Every bone in his body seemed to scream, felt as though they were pulling away from the others. He felt like a sack of shattered glass, all sharpened angles and ends inside his skin.

_Fuck. _

God, or whoever the hell, had a bitch of a sense of humour. He wanted to squeeze every last bit of blood and water out of Spike before letting him leave this fucked up universe. Spike wasn't laughing this time, though. He wasn't going to move from this spot. God couldn't dick around with his life if Spike played dead. He'd lie here until he grew old, or someone unhooked his useless body from whatever it was that was forcing the blood to crawl through his veins – whichever came first. He could lie like this forever.

_Oh, Christ...Julia... _

The rain had beaded on her eyelashes and cheeks, had only made her more beautiful. His fingers had tangled in her wet hair, squeezing handfuls of it in an effort to keep her there with him, as though she might lift off the ground and leave him behind. He didn't believe in spirits. If she died she would be dead. Her time with him will have passed and they'd never come across each other again. So he held her with white, sharp knuckles and nerve endings screaming to keep her pinned to the earth.

_Just a bad dream... _

He felt her shoulders sink back into the cradle of his arms. Her lips fell apart. One hand opened across her back while his other hand pushed some of the wet hair that clung to her face off to the side and over her ear. He brought the hand back to his face and choked on a sob. It was sticky with blood and stray hair. _Fuck, Julia...no... _

He stood clumsily, stumbling back a few steps. _No,no,no..._ He folded his arms across himself, clutching his elbows to keep from grabbing and shaking her.

He couldn't remember how he'd ended up at the ship again. He couldn't even remember what he'd done with Julia. He hoped he'd left her somewhere warm and dry. Had he kissed her good-bye?

He'd wanted to die right there with her, lying by her side with his arms encircling her waist. But there was something he wanted more.

He wanted Vicious -- alone and broken and bloody and twisted. He wanted to tear at him with his teeth, to take him apart.

His insides burned and slithered. He was aware of foreign objects below the surface of his skin, of liquid and oxygen running in and out of his body. He could hear people; different snippets of conversation about children getting into private schools, or saying 'daddy' for the first time. He could make out fuzzy bits of light here and there on the insides of his eyelids, like a sky of stars. _Yes._ He _could_ to lie like this forever.

If only he could have a smoke.

-  
Lyrics quoted from Echo & The Bunnymen's _Angels and Devils_. Don't sue, please.


	6. Interlude (Ready Steady Go!)

-  
**Oh, you wouldn't want an angel watching over  
Surprise, surprise  
They wouldn't wannna watch  
Another uninnocent, elegant fall  
Into the unmagnificent lives of adults**  
-

Jet was no longer answering her calls. Fine by her. This wasn't a movie and she wasn't a child trying to get her separated parents back together. She was trying to do something nice for the decrepit old crank because she figured he'd be worried. After all, he was the one who was always whining about not knowing what the hell she and Spike were up to.

She grabbed her leather bomber jacket and threw it about her shoulders, glaring out the window. The sun was setting and soon she would have to leave when visiting hours were over. She didn't want to go back to the same bar again so she thought she might try a pastry shop or café. Something different. She knew that it wasn't good to have a price on your head and a regular hang- out. People could find you that way. She hadn't been thinking about that.

"You know, you're a pretty lucky son-of-a-bitch having someone to keep you company and all," Faye said, aiming her words in Spike's general direction. She watched for a twitch but it never came. It was no fun picking a fight with someone who couldn't pick back. She got up from the windowsill to leave but paused on reaching the door.

She turned and glanced over at Spike who might as well have been made from wax. She tossed her head of mauve and black feathers and walked back to his bedside. She rearranged the sheets, pulling them up around his shoulders the way she imagined he'd done for her those countless times she'd fallen asleep in the armchair back on the ship. She reached across his chest to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, joining him momentarily in his darkness.

"See you tomorrow," she sang quietly.

She actually made it all the way to the coffee shop across the street on a Friday night without getting her ass felt up. That was a pleasant change. She supposed it was her own fault for stubbornly refusing to dress more sensibly. Once she had the money to spend on clothes she'd buy herself something nice. A nice pair of cigarette pants perhaps.

_A cigarette. That would be nice._

She reached into the pocket of her jacket but came up with nothing.

"Crap..." she muttered to herself. For a second she thought about running back to Spike's room and rummaging through his trenchcoat for cigarettes but something about that just seemed pathetic. She threw herself into a booth and stared out the plate-glass window. She watched crowds of people walk by, probably having just seen a movie at the theatre down the street. Teenage girls linked arms with their boyfriends, children with their parents. She turned away.

When she went to stare back at the menu over the counter she noticed an older man in the doorway winking at her. She scowled at him, but he jutted his chin out, gesturing back towards her booth. Her eyes quickly scanned the table and a cigarette was lying there. She looked back up at him and smiled, waving weakly, feeling ashamed for the thinking the worst of the older gentleman. He nodded, pulled up his jacket collar, and disappeared through the door.

"Always depended on the kindness of strangers," Faye whispered, feeling as though the words might not have been her own. Like maybe she'd heard that line before, maybe read it in a book, or saw it in a movie long ago. She reached across the table, took the cigarette up in her fingers and put it to her lips. She felt against herself for her lighter when the young woman behind the counter said, "I'm sorry, miss, but you can't smoke in here," pointing at the big non-smoking sign over her head. Faye nodded, chuckling to herself. _Of course._

"In that case, I'll have a medium coffee, black, to go."

Outside, Faye rested her coffee on the shop's windowsill and struggled to get her lighter working. The wind had started blowing so she had her work cut out for her. She turned herself every which way to get the flame going.

"Mmm-mm-mm," a voice behind her chuckled.

"Yeah, nice outfit," a second voice chimed in.

_All I wanted was a smoke._ Faye laughed to herself, her eyes turned skyward. She turned around slowly and smiled coyly at the five boys, who couldn't have been older than seventeen, as they slowly formed a circle around her. One kid had the audacity to run his fingers up her thigh. She grabbed the trespassing appendages and gave them a wrench.

"Okay, I'll give you a couple of seconds to collect yourselves and go elsewhere. I'm very tired and just frankly not in the mood right now," she said patiently.

"Hmm...I don't know, lady. You don't look like you're not in the mood. You look like you're dressed to party," the runt of the pack grinned. A skinny kid, not even as tall as she was, heavily freckled with acne. Faye let out a sigh. _Alright, then.  
_  
The first kick she landed jerked the runt's head to one side. The other boys backed up a few steps. One of them looked as though they were ready to make a run for it. But, as for the others, what the hell were they thinking? Had their brains been touched by the sun god? Instead of attacking her all at once they were actually going to wait their turns like in those old kung-fu flicks. _Morons_. She sunk her fist into the second boy's stomach and came across with another kick, hitting the coward trying to sneak up on her from behind – it wasn't a rib-cracker, but it was hard enough to knock the wind out of the boy. They were still just kids after all. The last boy – a tall, hefty kid in a black leather jacket -- got it in the jaw. In a matter of minutes, she'd chased them all away.

"What a fucking waste of my time," Faye muttered. One of those damn kids had knocked her coffee over and she wasn't sure what had happened to her cigarette. She looked down and turned the point of her boot to the side. Her cigarette lay crumpled beneath it.

_Shit._

_-  
_Lyrics quoted from The National's_ Mistaken For Strangers. _Don't sue, please.


	7. Hide A Little Thought

_-_

**This is stranger than love or loss  
Turning backwards, you face the dawning  
No excuse for a wasted life  
Lightly falling through a whisper of sky**

_-_

_I'm going to get a cot tonight. No more of this wandering about the town all night. I'm just too goddamn tired_.

Faye wondered if she could just pass herself off to the hospital staff as Spike's younger sister, or something. That way she'd have somewhere to sleep at night. She was sure that everything would be okay from here on in but she still couldn't bring herself to leave his side. She struggled to understand the complexities of why. She knew he wouldn't be happy to see her, and she knew that would cut pretty deep. Still, she remained emotionally tethered to his bedside as effectively as though it were with chains instead.

Seated once again on the windowsill, Faye brought her knees up to her chin and looked down into the parking lot. When the sun glinting off the cars began to give her a headache she turned away. She was dying for a cigarette, if only to kill some time, but since she had wasted that one from the night before, she hadn't come across another kindly old man to give her one. She began to chew on her nails.

She turned on the vid-screen that hung from the ceiling in one corner of the room. After a few minutes of empty-headed channel-surfing, Faye finally settled on some soap opera, mainly because a sex scene was in play. She focused her gnawing on the nail of her pinky finger, occasionally looking back at Spike. The idea that he might wake up to his fair-weathered comrade sitting by his bedside watching daytime televised sex was none too appealing. She was sure that finally seeing him with opened eyes for the first time since unearthing her feelings of attraction towards him was going to be embarrassing enough for her. A blush, hotter than hell, broke out across her face just thinking about it.

She could probably go back to the ship now, if she really wanted to. Her only real fear at this point was that Spike would come out of his coma the second she left him alone, and she'd lose track of him again. _There's no other reason I need to be here_, she told herself for the tenth time that day. Spike still hadn't woken up, and it had been four days now. _What if he never wakes up?_

Maybe he was awake and faking it.

Faye looked across the room at the chair by his bedside. On it lay a plastic bag his belongings had been placed in on arriving at the hospital. His trenchcoat, and trousers. His blue blazer and yellow shirt – both of which were torn to shreds. His Zippo, boots, and necktie. Faye had removed his precious Jericho from the bag when she'd first arrived. She didn't trust him not to do something stupid with it. She'd wrapped it up in a bed sheet she'd stolen off a cart she'd found out in the hallway and tucked it into her messenger bag. She quietly tiptoed to the plastic bag and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for in the breast pocket of his blue blazer.

_Yoink!_

She pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and hesitantly drew one out, feeling a little sick at the sight and texture of the blood-encrusted carton. She shifted her gaze to exam the cigarette she held between her fingers. Not all of them had made it out alive. She quickly shook off the feelings of guilt and snatched her own lighter out of the pocket of her red sweater. She lit the cigarette and knelt down by Spike's bed, resting her smoking arm up on the mattress. She blew the smoke down under the bed hoping the smoke detectors wouldn't be able to pick it up that way.

Feeling much calmer filled with smoke, she turned her attention back to the vid-screen. The results of a paternity test were being revealed. The music swelled melodramatically as the camera panned from one stunned face to another, finally zooming in tight on the father.

She glanced over at Spike every so often as she sucked at the cigarette. For a brief moment she dwelled on the realization that if she did manage to scam a cot for the night, she and Spike would be having a little sleepover together. She smirked, watching his chest rise and fall to the rhythm of whatever machine he was hooked up to. She hadn't the faintest idea what all those tubes, bleeps, and buttons did. She'd always hated hospitals. They made her feel stupid.

Leaning over to get a closer look at everything, she could suddenly smell him. Not the steady assault of ammonia or stale oxygen of the past few days, but Spike. His normal lying-at-home-on-the-couch scent, the one that had woven itself into the blanket she had slept beneath countless times.

_Oh, God._

She remembered being in that small, splintered room with Vincent. She had lain on the dirty, wooden floor, her wrists and ankles chafing from being bound so tightly. She'd finally reached that point where she began to wonder, rather than worry, about whether or not he was going to kill her. She couldn't worry anymore. She just wanted _something_ to happen, just wanted to speed through to the end of the story. She wondered if anyone would miss her but that didn't last long. Self-pity never looked good on her. It looked ugly on Vincent. She sort of reminded him of Spike. Tall and raw-boned, looking like skin stretched over wire coat hangers. Spike would have figured a way out of this predicament by now. Spike would have this guy by his throat.

He sat in the window frame and told her his story. That's how he and Spike were different. Spike wouldn't tell Faye a goddamn thing about himself. She felt almost sorry for this guy. He was suffering like she was suffering. They had both been denied a life of normalcy. They had both been placed at odds with the rest of the worlds. The difference, of course, was that Vincent's feelings of being short-changed in life had left him with a taste for blood. In Faye's case, it merely left her feeling defeated.

He had said Spike's name.

Immediately she thought that Spike must be dead. She was sure the only reason Vincent hadn't killed her yet was because she had lain there on the floor, quiet, offering up a sympathetic ear – at gunpoint, yes, but still. She hadn't tried any stupid tricks, but Spike was nothing _but_ stupid tricks. At Vincent's mentioning of Spike's name, it felt as though her heart had stopped. Her eyes grew wide and frightened. _Spike..._

She tried to remain stoic as she continued to lie still on the floor, because you should never let animals smell your fear, but it was her eyes that gave her away. She'd also given something else away; something that she hadn't wondered about until much later when she was safe with Jet watching an old James Stewart western. Who was Spike now? What had he become? She had plenty of time to think about it. He didn't return to the ship that night. Jet had mentioned a woman whose name Faye couldn't recall. She mostly just remembered feeling sick at the sound of it.

Faye walked over to the washroom to flush the cigarette butt down the toilet, waving her arm about to dissipate the smoke. She went back to the windowsill and watched the rest of the soap opera.

"If I hadn't been possessed by the spirit of my dead, evil twin brother, I _never_ would have slept with her! Delilah, you _must_ believe me," a tall, ruggedly handsome actor pleaded with his lover, grasping her shoulders. In true, soapy fashion, the woman broke from his hold and slapped him across the face.

"Is that what you're going to tell her baby – your _son_ -- when he wonders why mommy doesn't live with daddy?" she wept.

Faye chuckled, shaking her head. Perhaps that was what was behind all the emotional confusion of the past few days. Maybe some unseen evil spirit was having its way with her.

_If only._

-  
Lyrics quoted from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's _Weight of the World_. Don't sue, please.


	8. Walking Zero

_-_

**When I look up from my pillow  
I dream you are there with me  
Though you are far away  
I know you'll always be near to me  
I go to sleep, sleep  
And imagine that you're here with me**

**When morning comes again  
I have the loneliness you left me  
Each day drags by  
Until finally night time descends on me**

-

_Cigarette smoke._

He could smell cigarette smoke.

He could feel the weight of her, her upper body leaning against the side of the hospital bed.

_Faye. _

_What the hell is she doing here?_

He'd left her behind believing he'd never see her again. And sure, it tugged at his heart to know he was hurting her, but he'd left anyways. He had to. Couldn't Faye take a hint? He couldn't give her what she wanted. She wasn't the girl he'd lay down his life for.

_Only Julia. _

He wanted to open his eyes and lash out at her with some biting remark that would send her running from the room, never to return. Maybe not just her.

_I can't be around anyone right now. I should be dead. Fuck._

Still, the cigarette smoke was the sweetest smell in the world right now. The hospital air was stale and dry and giving him headaches. This was a pleasant change. It figures Faye would be smoking in a hospital room. If he could, he would smile.

It felt as though there were hands beneath his skin, wrapping bony fingers around his ribs, twisting his insides. The doctors must have really had their work cut out for them. Every part of his body felt weighed down with bandages, thickened with thread. Anything not covered with gauze or blanket prickled from the cold. His bed sheets were down around his waist. He was shivering and wondered if Faye could see that. Faye's eyes were on him – he recognized the feeling from the many times he suspected she'd watched him sleeping on the couch back on the ship. He wondered what she was thinking. That he might never wake up? Or perhaps she was waiting for something that would give him away; something that would prove her suspicion that he was no longer unconscious. As though she were testing her theory, she blew some smoke cigarette smoke across his face. _Wench._

Despite her eyes on him, he felt himself begin to drift off again. As he did so, the weight of his heavy hand slipping off the mattress jarred him, almost startling him into opening his eyes. In a moment he felt Faye's smaller hand close around his wrist, placing it gingerly back in its original across his waist. She began moving the sheets around him, pulling them up over his arms, tucking them gently beneath his shoulders. He swallowed hard, the smell of cigarette smoke permeating her hair and what little clothing he'd guessed she had on taunted his senses. _Jesus, I wish I could have a smoke_.

He heard the sound of her boots clicking on the floor as she moved from one side of the room to the other. Her shadows danced around the insides of his eyelids. She was pacing. The sound and scent of her was going to drive him crazy.

"You only had two cigarettes left so I smoked them," she said. _Bitch. Like I've always had the extra money to spend on cigarettes,_ he thought. Goosebumps rose on the skin she had touched. The sheets she had rearranged around him seemed to hum a familiar song. Lying just like this in another woman's bed. Opening his eyes and seeing...

_Oh, no... _

Had Faye developed Nightingale Syndrome overnight? Because if that were the case, Spike was the last person in the universe she wanted to fall for. Not just because she drove him to distraction with her near constant whining about being bored, broke or hungry, and not just because he was afraid that the next time she tried to swipe his cigarettes, he'd snap her pretty little fingers off, but because he couldn't possibly ever reciprocate. Because when it came down to it, the only woman he would have died for was dead.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the vibes Faye was giving off were only concern. She was just worried like a little sister would be worried about her big brother if he had gotten all beat up in a car accident or something. He'd almost been killed. And she had sat by his side when he had been injured in the past. Plus she had all sorts of abandonment issues and...Okay, everything would be okay.

Right?

-

Faye lifted her tired head from the arm she rested it on, her knees drawn up as she balanced on the windowsill. There was a strange sort of shift in the air, like someone or something had moved. Her eyes immediately darted across the room at Spike. Had he just opened his eyes? Was he awake?

A thought occurred to her. Was he faking it?

_Has he been awake all this goddamn time? Because if he's been faking it, I know enough about comas to know what it takes to put someone into a really good, long one._

She brought her feet down to the floor and wandered over to his bedside. She held her breath and leaned in very close to his face to watch his eyelids.

"Spike," she whispered.

Nothing.

Before realizing the mistake, she leaned in even further, miscalculating how close her nose and mouth already were to his by almost an inch. Stopping just short of a disaster, she let out a small gasp, her breath catching in her throat. Spike didn't move a muscle. She had been so unbearably close to him, there was no way he wouldn't have been able to feel, hear or smell her if he was conscious. He wasn't faking it. She felt so ashamed.

By way of apology, and before good sense had completely returned to her, Faye reached out, lightly brushing the very tips of her fingers along one of his temples. A shiver moved from her one hand all the way across her shoulders to the other.

_What...?_

As though a bolt of lightning had wound its way down her spine, she stood bolt upright, rushing from the room.

Out in the hallway and around the corner she leaned against the wall, letting her face glow warm and red. What the hell was that?

_I have to get the hell out of here. I need Jet._

Her heart was beating so fast, but she couldn't be certain if it was from her running or the consequences of momentarily losing her mind. What the hell had she been thinking? She flew across the hall to the public communicator and started punching the series of letters and numbers that would connect her with the ship.

_Please pick up this time..._

In an instant, the screen lit up. She had never been so happy to see Jet before in her life.

"What is it now?"

Faye blinked.

"Are you wearing a shower cap?"

Jet's eyes widened and his cybernetic hand flew quickly to the top of his head. Yes, he was wearing a shower cap. So she hadn't completely lost her mind.

"What do you want?" he said gruffly, swiping the shower cap off his head and out of sight. So he'd been trying to keep his mind off things, too, in his own way.

"You know, it can't do its job if you don't have any ha–"

"I said _what the hell d'you want_?" he snarled. "I already told you I'm not going to the hospital. You two are on your own now."

Under normal circumstances, Jet's yelling wouldn't have bothered her all that much. He'd said those same words to her so many times before. _You're on your own now_. But this time, beyond her control, her eyes began to well with tears. This time she yelled back.

"You have to come," Faye shouted, roughly bringing the back of her hand across her eyes. She wondered if he could see how red her face had turned. She wondered if he could see the change in her. "You have to..." she said, her voice cracking.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jet replied, suddenly anxious. "Is Spike alright?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I just can't anymore, Jet...Please, I just can't."

Jet nodded, looking tired. "Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can," he sighed. She could see that he was about to disconnect when, as an afterthought, he added, "Are _you_ alright?"

_No, Jet. I'm really not._

"Yeah, I'm alright. I just can't be here alone anymore..."

_...with Spike._

_-_

Lyrics quoted from The Pretenders' _I Go to Sleep_. Please don't sue.


	9. Oxygen

Through some miraculous act of whoever it was who gave wretched girls a second chance, she managed to get a cot. She didn't use it, though. She sat on the windowsill and watched ships soar by in the blue-black sky. Where the hell was Jet?  
  
The room felt tiny tonight. The darkness enveloped her like musty felt. She was completely broke now so she was sort of stuck. She didn't feel the usual misery-induced sluttiness that allowed her to let guys buy her drinks and give her smokes although she'd want to be anywhere but here right now. She didn't feel beautiful at all tonight.  
  
"Don't worry about me..." She whispered. "You'll wake up soon and I'll be fine. This is just some sort of nurse-patient thing, is all. You'll be up and about and we'll hate each other again. Everything will be fine." She was mostly trying to convince herself of that. She wondered if he could hear her talking. He shouldn't know. This wasn't his thing to deal with.  
  
She decided to lighten the mood by chatting.  
  
"You know...I think my favourite colour was green when I was young. Like, a minty sort of summery green. I think I had a sweater that colour. I think I also liked to collect socks. All sorts of lengths and different patterns and colours." She smiled to herself, somewhat happy that she could remember such a small detail of her life from long ago.  
  
"I wonder what you were like when you were little. I imagine you to have been the sort of kid who'd jump into the deep end before learning to swim." A red light blinked by and behind it was a sliver of moon. She couldn't remember all the different names of the moons. What a waste school was. She couldn't remember barely any of it.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike slept.  
  
He was dreaming about fish.  
  
Blue and gold and shimmering black. Velvety-looking under the water. He was there, too. Listening to far away sounds that would struggle to bubble in his ears. He felt smooth and clean and wanted to stay like this forever. The sun came through the water like it was making its way through the lenses of a pair of sunglasses, green and fuzzy. He looked up and saw the sky framed by bulrushes and long, gnarled tree branches. He thought Julia's hair would feel like velour and look like powder under the water. He imagined touching it, pressing his hands into it and pulling her to his mouth. Don't leave me here.  
  
And she was there. It was a dream, after all. Her fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck. Her mouth pushed fervently against his and her lips parted. Her other hand opened up against his jaw and Spike pulled at her waist like he wanted to pull her clear inside of him.  
  
Suddenly it occurred to him that he couldn't breathe under water. His lungs ached and swelled. He pushed himself from Julia and struggled to swim to the surface. Julia's hand was still in his hair and she wrenched to keep him under. Her kisses began to rip at his mouth and he thought she might draw blood. You brought me here and you won't leave me here alone. I will have you here with me.  
  
Julia, please...  
  
All at once he was in bed again. The wetness became sweat on the surface of his skin. He could hear Faye's breathing and the buzzing of the t.v. turned down low.  
  
He didn't fall asleep again. 


	10. Indigestion

Jet tossed the noodles and broccoli from the pan into the air and back again. He knew he should have left by now, Faye didn't seem like herself, but he obstinately remained on the ship. This was all probably a ploy to get him to accept his former comrades back into his fold. He wasn't going to do that.  
  
He wandered over to the fridge to peek in and see if he could find anything interesting to fry up with the noodles. Nothing. Shit.  
  
That woman was mighty clever. He had almost gone rushing off to find her when he saw that she had tears in her eyes. He didn't believe he could have ever stood for a girl crying but he managed to hold his ground. Faye was shifty. He decided to let her stew for a bit. She had said Spike was alright, anyways.  
  
He thought that there'd be more food around now that he was alone but he was still almost starving. He had been eating the noodles boiled for days now. It was like being stranded on a desert island with only coconuts to eat for months. He couldn't handle it anymore. He decided to fry up the noodles after boiling them this time. He had also managed to track down some broccoli although he wasn't sure how long it had been sitting in the fridge. It was still mostly green. He cut off all the brown bits. What he really wanted right now was some cheese and bread. Something thick and heavy. Or some pepper and carrot soup. He could feel his stomach begin to feed on itself.  
  
He brought the pan and some chopsticks over to the couch. There wasn't much of a point in serving up the food on a plate since he was the only one here. 'The Enforcer' had started so he settled and put his feet up on the coffee table.  
  
Clint Eastwood just had something about him. He wasn't a brilliant actor as such but he had something. The same thing Spike had. The same thing Jet believed he had. The thing that made him want to become a cop. He finished up the noodles and broccoli then rubbed unconsciously at his prosthetic arm. Sometimes it still felt like it was itching. He laughed when he thought of how Spike had managed to come out of so many horrid situations without a single amputation. Well, besides his eye, anyways. By rights he should have been a crash-test dummy by now, made entirely of fake bits and pieces. He cursed and thanked God at the same time for Spike's amazing luck.  
  
Had Faye actually been crying?  
  
Not that he thought she was an emotionless monster but even when they thought Spike was dead she had lain about the ship stolid and silent. She hadn't cried once. If she had, Jet hadn't caught her. She was pretty conniving, though. She probably had something to gain bringing he and Spike back together but he couldn't think of what. Women were so friggin' greedy that way.  
  
Jet stood and headed for the bathroom during the commercial break. It seems the broccoli wasn't good after all. 


	11. Hymn For The Things We Didn't Do

She still sat on the windowsill at 1 a.m. The little t.v. buzzed on mute. She was watching some late night talk show. She watched the milk in her half-drunken cup of coffee from two days before curdle. She didn't want to use the cot. She didn't want to lie beside him.  
  
She took out her buffer and started on her nails. It was a nervous habit. If she didn't buff them she'd be chewing them. She brought her red jacket further up around her shoulders and settled back against the window frame. She closed her eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike opened his eyes for the first time in the several days he'd been here. Since his most recent death. It was dark and he felt the presence of a woman in the room. In his half-sleep he had convinced himself it was Julia. Made from porcelain, beautiful, lying beside him. A seraph conceding to lie with an ailing street rat to usher him into death. Her fingers curled from the sheets. Her lips parted by soft sleeping breaths. When he realized it wasn't her, it had felt like someone had their fist closed around his heart.  
  
The thing he had lost.  
  
He stumbled drunkenly into lush sorrow. He felt tears begin to bead a trail down his temples. He hadn't quite accepted her death until now. She was gone, and he was here and he'd never have her again. The realization hit like he was crashing through a window.  
  
Julia.  
  
He lay silently, not sobbing but feeling the cool air on the wetness of his eyes. He'd forgotten about Faye. He looked over at her and he wasn't sure but he thought her eyes were closed. He watched her for a few moments. Her shoulders sagged. Her little star-shaped mouth was open slightly. He thought of Julia's mouth. He hungered for it now.  
  
The hollow sensation in his body threatened to push him apart from the inside. He wanted to fill it with something.  
  
He wanted to fill it with Faye.  
  
He convinced himself that if it had been anyone else in the room he'd probably want the same thing from them. He needed the gaping wound to be filled with something.  
  
The thing he had lost.  
  
He wanted Faye to leave. Right now. He was immediately disgusted with her. It was like she had tempted him with something. Like it was her fault he was feeling this way towards her.  
  
Fuck, he hated women. 


	12. Insomniac

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Spike whispered. It would have been more like him to come up with some clever remark as his first words back from the dead, Faye thought to herself. When she had heard the crackle of his voice her eyes flew open and her heart cut the air off in her windpipe.  
  
"Spike," She began. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. She knew that Spike wouldn't be doing cartwheels when he woke up and found her there but she certainly wasn't expecting what she got.  
  
"You heard me, what the FUCK are you doing here?" His voice grew louder, less hoarse and he was spitting the words at her.  
  
"What the hell is your problem?" She snapped. She stood up and gathered her bomber jacket up in her arms. Staying with the son of a bitch had been a bad idea. She knew he was probably still reeling from the whole thing, the dead girlfriend, Vicious, his near de-boning. But she was still a friend, wasn't she? Shouldn't he at least have been grateful?  
  
"Where's Jet?"  
  
I'm the only one who gave a shit, she wanted to scream. Jet's probably fucking about with his bonsai trees or sleeping. Something I haven't done since I came here. "He's on the ship." She replied, swinging the jacket around and punching her arms into the sleeves. She wanted to tear the pillow out from under Spike's head and suffocate him with it.  
  
Spike looked about the room with slitted eyes. Faye leaned across him and he flinched. Faye glared at him, "I'm just turning the light on."  
  
The light hurt his eyes but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. His eyes flicked to all the tubes hanging at one side. He became aware of them wedged into his flesh. The bandages wrapped around various parts of his body made it feel as though his skin was too small for him. It felt as though a log of dead wood was lying across his stomach. He remembered he had been gutted by Vicious and his fingers reached down and traced a faint stain of blood that had soaked through to the surface of the gauze.  
  
Faye watched him for a moment, not sure what she was feeling. It suddenly occurred to her that this was the first time she'd be seeing him and experiencing the emotion she was still suspicious about. He didn't look much different than always besides all the tubes. She watched his fingers poke at the bandages about his waist.  
  
"I hope it opens up and you bleed to death." She said. Spike didn't look up but she could see that he was smirking. That made the corner of her mouth quirk with a smile.  
  
"Fuck you." He said.  
  
"Fuck you, too." She replied. 


	13. New Pollution

He hadn't wanted to but he leaned on Faye as they walked down the corridor to the main room. She settled him down on the couch and adjusted his legs at the other end. She dropped the bundle of his clothes, torn and stiff with week-long dried blood on the floor beside him.  
  
"Thanks..." He muttered under a scratchy breath. Jet wandered out from one of the rooms.  
  
"Oh, you're back, huh?"  
  
"Yes." Faye answered. She watched his eyes to see if they were welcome. He turned away and wandered off towards the blue flame he was frying up something or other on. She took that as an okay. To Spike she said, "You may actually have to throw these clothes out. This isn't very hygienic."  
  
"They'll wash. I've had them for ages. I'm not getting rid of them now. Besides, it isn't as if I've got the money to spend on stuff like that." The walk to the couch had exhausted him. He tipped his head back against the arm of the couch and closed his eyes.  
  
Faye watched him for a second, wondering if he was done with her. He was silent. So, that was it, then. Things were going to go back to the way they were before. She went to see Jet.  
  
"Hey." She said.  
  
"I don't know if there's going to be enough for you guys. I wasn't expecting anyone." He was lying. She could see there was plenty of green bits of noodles. He had been waiting for them. She smiled to herself. She went back to the main room and sat down in front of the vid-screen. She flicked it on and fell into the nearby armchair. She watched some ancient sitcom about a black couple with five kids. The oldest daughter was going on a date. She laughed along with the laugh-track even though she wasn't paying close enough attention to know what was going on. She just wanted to fill in the silence. She wanted Jet to be glad that he had the company again. She was only beginning to feel guilty for ditching him now. She fell into a daze, staring insipidly at the vid-screen.  
  
He should have been angrier, now that she was thinking about it. Why hadn't he just left the two of them.  
  
Jet was too nice a guy for that, she realized as Jet came in with a plate heaving and steaming with broccoli. He handed it to her. She smiled up at him.  
  
"All this is for me?" She asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah. You and Spike. Every last bit of it." Jet grinned sitting across from her with a small bowl of noodles.  
  
She wondered what he was so happy about. 


	14. Some Jingle-Jangle Morning

Faye really knew she should get up. She knew it was already the afternoon but the crusted vomit and saliva kept her face pinned to the couch. Her eyes were drooped half-shut as she looked about the room. She could see that Spike was lying on the other couch, fast asleep, as it had been in the good ol' days. She dragged her tongue along the roof of her mouth to get it wet and felt more bile rise in her throat. Maybe it had been the broccoli.  
  
She could smell eggs being cooked up. She figured those had been finished off some time back. She couldn't think of where all the eggs had come from. She didn't think they had the extra woolongs for stuff like eggs. She had gotten used to eating boiled noodles. Maybe her system was rejecting the broccoli because it had become so accustomed to her poor diet. Eggs would have been nice but the smell alone made her sick. She closed her eyes again.  
  
The vid-screen was still on. It was fuzzy on some far-off station from some other galaxy. She rolled over so that she was facing the couch she lay on.  
  
"And in other news, production for Akaido's latest crime opus Death Trip has finally begun in Tharsis. Death Trip is the story of three world-weary bounty hunters on the trail of an escaped serial killer with a strange fetish for women's..."  
  
Faye pressed her arm over her ear to block out the sound but she turned her head slightly when she heard the anchorwoman for some entertainment show begin to speak about Death Trip. She was familiar with Akaido's work. He was supposed to be a very intense director with a taste for blood. He translated this taste into gory crime films. So now he was doing one about bounty hunters. Should be interesting.  
  
"Judy Gillery is set to be playing Mae Ballantyne, the femme-fatale of the group who was put in a cryogenic freeze for fifty years and clamours for information about the past she can't remember."  
  
Wha-? Faye squirmed to face the vid-screen. Her fingers closed around the keyboard and turned it to face her.  
  
The announcer continued, "Roscoe Calhoun plays the dark and mysterious Strike Segal, former gang member who searches the galaxy seeking revenge on his former best friend..."  
  
This was getting more fucked up by the second, Faye thought to herself. Strike Segal, huh? She wondered if she should wake Spike up to see this.  
  
"And last, but certainly not least, is Barry Grohl who plays the leader of the group, Jack Beck, a one-armed former cop with a ..."  
  
Faye called back over her shoulder, "Jet!"  
  
Jet wandered into the stairwell. "What?"  
  
"Er...you should probably come see this." 


	15. Novacaine

Jet was sure that Spike would be more pissed off than himself. After all, Jet couldn't remain low-profile even if he tried. Which in fact he had. But Jet was covered in battle scars that would be easily recognizable by anyone. Spike was the one with the dark and messed up past. Mind you, Faye was freaked out enough for the three of them. She seemed more bothered by the fact that someone knew her real age than the idea that someone knew enough about her life to make a film about it. She still had that bounty on her head, too.  
  
"And to top it all off I don't even like the woman who's playing me! Her last film STUNK!" Faye cried.  
  
"Relax, Faye." Spike eased himself into a semi-sitting position. He winced when he felt his stitches pull as he tried to lift his arms above his head. Defeated, he lay back down on the couch.  
  
"Relax, huh? Did you happen to see who's playing Strike Segal?" The name still made her laugh. Strike Segal, indeed.  
  
"Who?" Spike looked about him for a place to put his arms that wouldn't cause further injury.  
  
"Roscoe Calhoun."  
  
Spike's eyes narrowed, "You're joking."  
  
Faye grinned and shook her head.  
  
"Okay, well, then that's it. We have to put a stop to this." Spike looked about ready to leave now.  
  
Jet sighed and scratched the top of his head. "I just don't understand. Who could possibly know all this stuff about us? And why is it being turned into a film? Has anyone ever run into this Akaido character?"  
  
Faye looked up at the ceiling and Spike stared at the tips of his boots. Both were filing through their memories.  
  
"No." They replied.  
  
"Okay, well we have to make our way to Tharsis where Faye said they're doing the filming."  
  
"What if this is some sort of plan or something. What if someone's trying to get us back by luring us out into the open?" Faye scraped a fingernail along the dry saliva and vomit still at the corner of her mouth. When this was all figured out she'd take a long shower and brush her teeth with ammonia.  
  
"All I can say is this better be the performance of Roscoe Calhoun's lifetime." Spike growled, looking as threatening as a heavily sedated man lying on his back could look.  
  
"Hey," Faye began carefully, "If these characters are based on us then aren't we supposed to get some sort of payment or something for it?"  
  
"Those bastards owe us money!" Spike yelled. In his excitement he had almost managed to stand up. He squeezed his eyes shut and lay back down.  
  
Jet stood up from the couch and wandered back to where the eggs were waiting. "First thing's first. We need to go down to Tharsis and figure out what the hell is going on."  
  
Faye leaned over Spike to be sure he hadn't split himself open. One of his eyes opened.  
  
"Are you sure you didn't sleep with this Akaido guy?" He grinned.  
  
"Fuck you." 


	16. Interlude (Shut-eye)

Things seem to be back to normal.  
  
Seem.  
  
It's like when you hear your favourite song and you know it's been sped up or slowed down a touch. All the elements you enjoy are still there but you don't feel the same way about it. You need it to be the way you're familiar with.  
  
I had learned to live without you but I was comforted with the knowledge that you were somewhere. Where are you now?  
  
Julia.  
  
I want to die.  
  
God or whoever has a pretty twisted sense of humour. He wants me to do it myself. He won't let me die the way I want to. He's keeping me here without you on purpose because I was such a terrible example of human life. He's punishing me.  
  
You were so beautiful. Your hands. Your hair. Your heart-shaped mouth.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
Last night I thought about clipping at the stitches across my belly and letting everything inside out. I thought about lying there and bleeding to death in an incredible rush like I was plummeting from the top of a high building.  
  
She lay across the other couch. She looks like you when she sleeps. I think all women might look the same when they're sleeping. I thought about pulling her up against my chest, laying her out the way you used to lie with me. Your head on my chest and your fingers weaved into mine. Pale and paler flesh. She would become you when my eyes closed.  
  
I would pretend you'd never left.  
  
I would never open my eyes again. 


	17. Interlude Pt. II (Crime Story)

I have a brilliant pitch.  
  
Three world-weary bounty hunters who come together by chance.  
  
One is an older man with a prosthetic arm. He is good with machines and with guns. See, he used to be a cop but the whole system was so corrupt that it made him sick. He left and decided to make a living hunting bounties. He wanted to work alone. He didn't want to ever have to depend on anyone ever again. He knew he would grow to care for them. He had nothing in him left to waste on another person.  
  
He meets another man, younger. Tall and thin. A martial arts expert. Quick and wiry. He's a pretty easy-going guy on the outside. But inside is a turmoil. He's in love with the lover of his best friend. He wants to get out of a life of gangs. He wants to start anew with his new lady-love. She won't leave her lover's side. She's afraid she'll be killed. The tall and thin man fakes his own death to leave the gang. He swears that one day he will be with this woman again. He wants his best friend dead for constantly putting her in danger. For letting her see the horrible things she's had to see. For not providing her with the good life she so richly deserves.  
  
Together the one-armed man and the tall and thin man become partners.  
  
They get mixed up with one of their bounties. An attractive femme-fatale who smokes and drinks like one of the guys. She joins their team and they reluctantly allow her to, knowing that she would abandon them in a second if the price was right. She is far older and wiser than she lets on. An accident rendered her in suspended animation for fifty years. As a result, she has a huge, impossible medical debt to pay off. A bounty has been placed on her head. She struggles to remember bits and pieces from her past, to put them together to perhaps discover the person she once was. She knows she was happy long ago. She wants that happiness again but time won't allow it. Everyone she may have loved is dead.  
  
Will there be romance?  
  
Of course. What would a crime movie be without sex and violence? 


	18. Close, but...

So they're back.  
  
Things seem sort of the same. Business as usual.  
  
Something's strange, though.  
  
Like, off.  
  
I can't quite put my finger on it but I have this weird feeling that Spike isn't going to be around for very long. I think this Julia thing has hit him pretty hard. I don't think he's going to be alright.  
  
I mean, at first I thought he'd be miserable for a fews days and then he'd slowly return to normal. But there's a fermenting behind all of his smiles. Like something's gone bad. Something inside him is broken.  
  
And Faye.  
  
He's usually pretty rotten to Faye but there seems to be more of a fierceness there. Something vehement. He seems to really want to hurt her for some reason. Not that it concerns me terribly. I have a soft spot for the woman, too, but she can grate on the nerves in record time. But what's the deal? Is it because she's not the woman he just lost?  
  
I wondered the other day if he should be left alone. I can see now why Faye didn't want to leave him in the hospital by himself.  
  
I think he wants the ending he got robbed of. The ending where he dies bloody and heart-shattered and avenged and lovesick. All the elements of his life thrown up in the air and scattered like rice at a wedding. They strike at his flesh like shards of glass, taking bits of him with them as they tumble to the ground. He's ripped to shreds and whatever he believes is inside him, his soul or whatever the fuck, is free to leave.  
  
What the hell is he going to do now? I always figured that part of Spike's reason for partnering up with me was to travel and perhaps find Julia. Or kill Vicious.  
  
Julia's dead now. And Vicious with her. All his plans down the toilet.  
  
I wonder sometimes if Spike would have ever gotten married. Like, found Julia and destroyed all his ties to his shitty past and got married at some city hall somewhere. Spike doesn't believe in God. Would he have kids? He's a giant child himself.  
  
What pisses me off most about all this is knowing that he would have just left. He was with me for all that time but he was ready to leave and never look back. I would have never seen him again. It bothers me that he would be okay with that.  
  
Shit, I whine too much. 


	19. Happy Shopper

Tharsis was approximately the same as Faye remembered it.

  
  


She walked up and down streets in a bedraggled yellow leather outfit and stay-ups that barely could pull themselves together enough to perform their duty. She hoped this whole movie thing, if it couldn't be put to a stop, could at least have some sort of pay-out. There was a lot of stuff she needed, including hair dye. Her colour was starting to fade back to its natural black. But the little money Jet had given her was for something healthy for Spike. Jet was worried about him. He wouldn't actually come out and say it but there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they'd keep a close eye on Spike. Not that Spike was the suicidal type but you can never be too careful.

  
  


Although she knew that Spike would see Roscoe Calhoun in hell before watching the guy play him in a movie. The suicide watch need not start until after this whole movie thing was figured out.

  
  


Faye made a sharp turn into a fish market. She inhaled deeply while everyone around her scrunched their noses in defence against the over-powering odour of fish and salt water. Obviously all these people had eaten in recent days. She swayed slightly with nausea caused by hunger. Fish it was.

  
  


Back on the street, Faye enjoyed the sunlight. The road ahead wobbled with steam heat and she revelled in it. She swung the bag of newspaper-wrapped fish at her side and hummed to herself. Things were sort of back to normal. But not. Something had changed.

  
  


She was content.

  
  


She felt like there was nowhere in the universe she'd rather be right now that walking down this particular street under this particular sun with a bag of stench-heavy fish. She wished she didn't look like a street walker as mothers yanked their children clear of her path but overall she was feeling pretty good about herself. Faye was happy with her life.

  
  


She wondered again about her feelings for Spike. She loved him and she hated him and at times when he'd stop breathing for a few seconds in his sleep she'd hover over him and plead with forces unknown to feel his breath on her face. It had been ages since she'd slept through an entire night without waking up to check on the son of a bitch. 

  
  


The other day Jet almost had a heart attack when he found her doing dishes. Mind you, she was washing them up in the bathtub but it's the thought that counts. Jet looked pretty happy when she re-entered the main room and he was stretched across one of the couches watching some old movie on the vid-screen. Probably eons since he'd been able to watch the eight o'clock movie from the very beginning.

  
  


She crossed the street and looked into some store windows. She saw some shoes she'd like to have. A pair of capri pants, a cute shirt. As she passed a book shop window display she thought about how it had been ages since she'd flipped through a magazine or read a book. She liked to think it was because she was too busy. She bit methodically at the inside of her cheek and adjusted the heavy bag of rice she ended up buying in the cradle of her right arm while the other arm was weighed down with dead fish.

  
  


And then she smiled and inhaled warm, moist air deep into her lungs. 

  
  


As she walked she noticed that the streets had emptied considerably. She squinted and raised the fish-laden hand to her eyes to see down the road better. She realized she had passed a road block.

  
  


"Don't you understand?! You'll never be her! You'll never be able to replace Jillian!" She heard a man cry wildly. She inched around a corner and couldn't believe what she saw. Spike Spiegel, blue suited and black booted, with the shoulders of a woman pinned against a brick wall in an alley. He was running a hand through his crazy dark hair every few moments. "Oh, Maye..." He suddenly moaned hoarsely. With that he pressed his mouth to the woman's and tightly wrapped his arms around her waist. Faye didn't know what to think. She had this urge to run screaming like a banshee towards them when she suddenly realized, who the fuck was Jillian? Maye...ah, yes...movie.

  
  


She turned and saw a security guard doggedly making his way towards her. "Miss! This area is closed off!"

  
  


Faye smirked then looked back over her shoulder at the couple pressed against each other in the alley. She noticed the cameras and crew finally. The she heard a booming voice yell "Cut! Who the fuck is that?" and then another voice, the voice of the woman who had been kissing "Spike" at the other end of the alley cry out, "I can't keep doing this same stupid scene over and over again. My mouth is going to be covered in sores by the end of the day!" As she pushed doppelganger Spike out of her way and marched towards Faye, Faye realized that she was wearing an outfit identical to hers. The same buttery leather hotpants and halter top.

  
  


What the hell was going on?

  
  


And why was Spike kissing Faye?

  
  



	20. Red Fish, Blue Fish

Faye managed to make her way back to the ship before the fish went bad. It wasn't before she snuck off to the catering area and ate her fill of croissants at the movie set. She momentarily thought about sneaking some back with her to the Bebop.  
  


"La-di-da...croissants..." Spike would say before devouring them. Jet would save them to have with some tea after dinner or lunch. She wasn't sure how she was going to transport a bunch of croissants back to the ship what with the large sack of rice and the bag of fish. She ate all she could and made her way back to the ship sans croissants.  
  


Jet grumbled a bit about the fish and the cost of such a delicacy at first, but once he was frying it up he looked like there was nothing in the world he'd rather be doing. Faye smiled to herself as she watched him carefully brown both sides of the fish and dip his head into the fridge looking for lemon slices. He wouldn't find them, of course, but it was cute nonetheless. He was so easy to please.  
  


"So what did you find out about this movie?" He asked.  
  


"Nothing really. I was only there for about half an hour. I didn't see you but there was a Spike and a me." It was really surreal. Seeing Spike kissing her and loving her was crazy. She hadn't consider that aspect of her feelings. The whole physical thing. She swayed as though her legs might go out from under her when she thought about it. She gave her head a good shake and looked back up at Jet who was sprinkling some spice or something into the pot of rice he had boiled.  
  


"I just don't understand how they can know all this stuff about us." Jet muttered.  
  


"The scene I walked in on was about Julia. Well, Jillian. How can anyone possibly know about her? It's sort of scary. I didn't get to ask any questions." She didn't mention that the reason she didn't get to ask any questions was because she was preoccupied with eating as many pastries as she could get down.  
  


"We'll head out there tomorrow and find out what the hell's going on." Jet said. He started dividing up the fish between three dishes and spooned some rice out.  
  


Faye walked back out into the main room where Spike had grown roots into the couch. He was sleeping as per usual but she could see his eyes flicking back and forth under their lids, probably aware of the presence of food. Her finger came out seemingly on its own accord and traced the line from his right ear, down his jaw line to his chin. The tip of her finger lingered there for a moment and then she straightened, feeling the shiver from her accidental touch in the hospital bounce its way like electricity down her spine. Dammit. What the hell was wrong with her?

Spike's eyes opened. Faye inhaled sharply. Did he feel her touching him?

"I smell fish." He said. Faye inwardly sighed with relief. "I must be dreaming." He smiled and stretched his arms as far over his head as he could without disturbing the stitches."You're not. We're having fish today. With rice." She scratched at her scalp and started wandering back to the other couch. She sat down and brought her knees up in front of her. Her eyes flit back to Spike who had closed his again. He didn't know. 

Good. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Project

He could feel her finger, cool and slender, on his jaw line. He felt hairs stand on end and something inside him twitched. He hoped it wasn't visible on the outside. Her touch had been soft and delicate, not like her usual jabs and grabs when they'd be joking around or fighting over a bounty. There was something behind her touch. Something he wasn't comfortable with.

  
  


He knew she had developed some sort of crush on him but he figured she'd be over that by now. She was just upset about his condition or whatever. But it seems she was still feeling whatever the hell she was feeling towards him. It was evident in the touch just now.

  
  


He debated for a moment whether he should let her know he was awake and aware of what she had done. He listened to her breathing as her finger moved down his jaw. It was slow and straining for silence as she exhaled, probably trying not to wake him. Her chilled skin brushing along his was searing like some sort of ice-fire. He trembled slightly, not sure if it was because he was disgusted or not. 

  
  


Faye.

  
  


He knew she was hating this as much as he was.

  
  


So he could open his eyes and make some sort of remark that would suggest that he didn't want her to ever touch him like that again, or he could pretend the whole thing never happened and work on deterring her attentions.

  
  


"I smell fish." He said. "I must be dreaming."

  
  


Faye started for a second. She wasn't expecting that. He watched her eyes carefully. They half-closed with an air of nonchalance. Just like that, she was Faye again.

  
  


Moments later he was in a half-seated position enjoying Jet's culinary delights. Faye poked about at her food with chopsticks. Spike would glance over every so often to watch her hands. They were very much like Julia's hands. White and ceramic and clean. In complete contrast with the rest of Faye in her torn stockings and yellow shorts and top. Her red sweater was dull with lint and leftover Ein hair. The colour was starting to fade from her hair. For someone who took three showers a day she looked dirty. Tired and ragged and dirty and old. But her hands. Her hands were beautiful.

  
  


Poor Faye.

  
  


He would have to mess her up. He would ruin her. He would rip her to shreds. He didn't want to because she was a comrade, a member of the team. She cared for him and how many people could say the same? But it wouldn't be fair to let her believe for even a second that he could care back.

  
  


It took him a bit to realize that Faye was looking at him. She must have felt his stare on her. Their eyes met for a second before Spike jerked his attention to Jet.

"What's the deal with this movie thing?" He asked.

  
  


Jet mulled over the food in his mouth. Once he swallowed he replied, "Well, Faye and I are going to the set tomorrow. I'm assuming you'll be staying here."

  
  


"I don't know. I think I might want to go." Spike smiled. He carefully removed the little clear bones from his fish with his fingers.

  
  


Jet raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you can walk? No offense but we're not carrying you around on our backs."

  
  


Spike just kept smiling and went on eating.

  
  


He didn't look at Faye again.


	22. In The Flesh

_Sloth incarnate._

That's what those two were.

Jet walked through the set in Tharsis on his own after getting mumbled directions from a sleeping Faye. These were the times when he'd miss Ed most. Whenever he left the ship Ed would want to go along with him no matter how early in the morning.

He decided to let Faye sleep only because she looked like she really needed it. He knew she hadn't really slept properly since Spike had gone awol. Otherwise he would have dragged her along with him to Tharsis by her hair. He was too used to company now. He hated to be alone. He also hated the way he got stared at whenever he was seen wandering crowded streets. It wasn't just because of his arm, which he tended to forget about from time to time. He was head and shoulders above everyone else. He had this jagged scar on his face. He frightened people. Usually it came in pretty handy but when it came to times like this, when he would have been happy to blend in with the crowd, he loathed his appearance. At least if Faye or Spike were here he could look freakish along with someone else.

He scratched at the top of his head and stumbled out of the way of a group of crew members all dressed in black turtlenecks and ballcaps. They were too far away by the time he realized that he should have asked them where he could find whoever was in charge. Tharsis was the same as he'd remembered it from a few months back. Sort of a mish-mash of different cities from old Earth. If he liked cities, he'd probably like it here.

He grabbed a danish from the catering table as he walked down a narrow alley, following another group of crew members. The alley opened onto a sun drenched street. Cranes with cameras were set up all over the place as two cars raced over a slope in the street a la Bullitt. The cars both bounced momentarily in the air before hitting the ground and continuing on their way.

"Stop! Fuck! Can't anything go right," a voice seeming to boom from unseen loudspeakers shouted. The two cars screeched to stops kicking up a hell of a lot of dust. That's when Jet saw the Spike double get out of his car. Jet smirked. He really does look like him. Across the street he could see another Spike drinking a bottle of mineral water. This is too weird.

Jet watched for a few minutes, trying to take it all in.

"They're going to need you in make-up soon," a voice behind him chirped. "Mr. Akaido is not going to be happy if things don't go according to his schedule."

"Who?" Jet turned his head slightly to see who was beginning to push him back down the alley. A small asian girl with thick glasses had both her hands on his back and was shoving him towards some trailers set up at the other end of the alley.

"Don't push it. He's really in a mood. He wants all the doubles in make-up and on call."

Jet decided to go along with it to see where it would take him. "Er...when can I get to see Mr. Akaido?"

The girl chuckled and removed a hand from his back to push her glasses farther up on her nose. "Very funny. If you get to see him once through the whole filming I'd be mightily impressed. He doesn't talk to any of us. He thinks he's Big Brother, sitting up in his booth yelling at us through those speakers. Go right on in. Make-up's waiting for you." She gave Jet one final shove towards the trailer, turned on her heel and rushed off.

Maybe they can figure out a way to get rid of these dark circles under my eyes, Jet smiled to himself.


	23. Folk Song

Faye lay on her bed and whispered vows of how she would never leave her mattress again. She stretched her limbs out to all four corners of the bed. She wondered briefly how Jet was making out. She knew she should have gone with him. If there was any money to be had from this whole thing she'd have to work a bit for it. She slid her hands beneath her pillow and felt the coolness there. She pressed her face into it and inhaled deeply. She really needed this sleep.

  
  


Time to check on Spike.

  
  


She got up and made her way slowly to the shower. She was in and out in ten minutes having raised the act of showering to an art form. She slid into her terry cloth robe and made her way to the main room. Spike wasn't on the couch. Maybe he'd actually made it to his bed last night.

  
  


But, she soon realized that in true Spike fashion the growling of his stomach had led him to an attempt at getting to the kitchen. She found him standing in the doorway, doubled over with his arm across his middle. She gasped and rushed towards him, grabbing his arm. "Are you alright?"

  
  


"Yes. I'm fine. Let go." He straightened and Faye peered over his shoulder to see the few droplets of blood on his undershirt.

  
  


"You're bleeding!" Her grip on his arm tightened and her teeth clenched. 

  
  


Spike waved her off, "That's from a few days ago. I'm fine."

  
  


Faye immediately let him go and stepped back from him. Her expression relaxed.

  
  


I have to stop doing that. He's going to figure it out. She walked past him into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Nothing.

  
  


"Looks like it's rice again this morning." She said. Spike scowled and scanned the room with his eyes. Sure enough the only thing that he could spot was the pot still sitting on the stove with the leftover rice from last night. The wooden spoon stuck straight out of it like a sword in a man's chest. Ugh.

  
  


"You know what would be good? Some eggs and back bacon. That would be incredible right now." He sighed.

  
  


Faye nodded. "Well, then, hurry up and get better. Get out there and make some money." She struggled momentarily to get the spoon out of the rice then gave up. She brushed past Spike on her way out to the main room. She tried not to stiffen when her shoulder pressed momentarily against his chest. She felt him immediately recoil from her touch and muttered, "Sorry."

  
  


She turned and walked slowly back to her room.

  
  


It seems getting out of bed was a bad idea after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Spike stood in the doorway of the kitchen for some time. Whenever he moved he felt everything in his torso shift. Faye's freak-out had also been a little on the disturbing side. The ship was big enough that he could avoid bumping into her but there wasn't much someone in his condition could accomplish. He turned and painfully made his way back to the couch. He eased himself down and with a rattling breath brought his legs up onto the coffee table. He cursed himself for not thinking of flicking on the vid-screen before he lay down. Too late now. Nothing to do but sleep.

  
  


He closed his eyes.

  
  


He could smell coffee and hear Julia's humming in the kitchen area. Every once in a while she would sing a few words. 

  
  


There was something sad about it. 

  
  


Light poured in through the open window and he could feel and see the heat through his eyelids. He opened his eyes and he was there, in that little room. He could see Julia's hair falling down her shoulders. Her white apron with the bow tied at the back. She turned her head slightly when she heard Spike stir. She smiled shyly and held out a bowl and a whisk, "I'm making eggs." She said. "I wasn't going to wake you up until they were done."

  
  


Spike smiled lazily and held out one of his hands. "C'mere." He said.

  
  


Julia put the bowl with the whisk down and approached him with the same shy smile on her face. "You look so sweet when you're sleeping." She said. "Like an angel."

  
  


An angel.

  
  


She reached her hand out and pressed it to his face. He leaned into it and let his lips brush against her palm. He placed a kiss there and reached out for her other hand. His fingers weaved into hers. Pale and paler flesh. He closed his eyes again.

  
  


When they opened again, he was back on the couch. He was suddenly terribly hungry. Faye was sitting in the armchair across from him. She was dressed in her usual outfit again. She had turned the vid-screen to face her and was eating freeze-dried noodles. 

  
  


"Any for me?" Spike asked. Faye didn't even look away from the screen.

  
  


"Nope. Last one."

  
  


Wench.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. Stick It To The Man

It was like some freaky circus inside the trailer.

  
  


There were three Jets, a Spike and two Fayes. They were all crammed into a corner of the trailer drinking coffee and eating pastries. Jet was astounded by the similarities between himself and the other two Jets. Everything was almost perfect, even the scar running through his eye. One Faye was a lot taller than the other but they both looked approximately the same. 

  
  


Jet sat in front of a mirror while a very effeminate man, differing only in uniform from the other crew members by wearing a giant silver belt buckle, plucked at Jet's eyebrows. Jet was a strong man, had been through all sorts of forms of physical torment, his cybernetic arm being a testament to that, but none had been quite as unbearable as this. It was like someone was continuously poking pins into his forehead. The make-up artist was finally forced to numb his brow with an ice cube before going at it.

  
  


One of the Jets was complaining. "I don't get paid nearly enough to put up with this shit. Have you SEEN the size of my trailer? And how many guys do they need to double for the same character?" He whined in a very un-Jet manner.

  
  


"Tell me about it. And I'm so sick of getting yelled at by that asinine director. What's his problem anyways?" One Faye muttered.

  
  


Jet was trying to hear the conversation but whenever his head would drift in their direction the make-up artist would yank his head back to face the mirror.

  
  


"You know, you really should exfoliate. At your age you can't afford to have fifty layers of dead skin..." He began. Jet's eyes rolled skyward. He continued to listen to the conversation between the stunt doubles.

  
  


One of the Fayes, the shorter one, puffed on a cigarette. "We should just walk out. Like, all of us. Just grab our stuff and get the hell out of here. Like they're going to be able to find doubles to do all this crap work for them if we leave." She exclaimed excitedly.

  
  


"You know, you're absolutely right. Maybe they'll concede to treat us better if we leave." Spike finally spoke up. He didn't sound like Spike at all.

  
  


This would be too perfect.

  
  


"Well, then, let's do it!" Jet cried, slamming his fist down on the table beside him. This time it was the real Jet who spoke. With that all the other stunt doubles threw fists up in the air. One of the Fayes removed her red sweater from around her shoulders and stomped on it in the form of a symbolic, rebellious act. The door to the trailer opened and slammed closed several times and the make-up artist stared, open-mouthed, at the expanse of the empty trailer. He turned and looked at Jet.

  
  


"This eyebrow looks a little thicker than the other." Jet said.


	25. Crush

"You need to get down here now." 

  
  


Faye listened to Jet's rough voice through her communicator. She wondered if he'd made some sort of grand discovery or breakthrough. She clutched at the communicator anxiously awaiting elaboration but she heard the click that signified she'd been cut off.

  
  


She stretched her limbs to their fullest extent and leaned back into the arm chair. She had hoped that Jet could handle whatever was going on by himself. Now she'd have to get up. Spike wondered absently if Spike was going to want to go along with her. His eyes were closed as per usual.

  
  


"Spike..." She began tentatively.

  
  


"What?" 

  
  


"I'm going down to the movie set."

  
  


"So?"

  
  


"So do you want to come along?" Faye asked. Two seconds and he'd already managed to irritate her. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask him along.

  
  


Spike lay there, seeming to taste his next response on his tongue before sending it out. 

  
  


"Nah." He said. 

  
  


Faye sat perfectly still. Something in the air shifted. She could feel it droning along the surface of her skin. He knew.

  
  


"Spike?"

  
  


Spike's reply snapped like a whip. "I said I'm not going."

  
  


"Is it so bad?" She whispered.

  
  


"What the fuck are you talking about?" Spike leaned on his arm to bring him up to a semi-sitting position. He didn't make eye contact, though. His eyes rested on the space beside her head. He dropped his head back suddenly and sighed. 

  
  


"Is what so bad?" He asked calmly.

  
  


"It's just a crush. It'll go away." She said quietly and earnestly. Spike didn't seem surprised by her words. He just rested where he was, with his head dropped back from his shoulders. "I know." He said.

  
  


Neither of them moved.


	26. Leadbelly

Now it's out in the open.

  
  


Spike wondered if he should say anything. The silence scratched at him and he wondered what sort of comment would be most appropriate to shatter the quiet with. All the colour had fallen away from Faye's face. She looked as though she welcomed the floor opening beneath her and swallowing her up. He ran his fingers tentatively over the stitches in his gutt. He felt every mottled, crusted bit of them. He decided he didn't want to be the first person to enter the realm of wherever the hell Faye's admission had taken them.

  
  


"Spike..."

  
  


"Don't you have to go find Jet?" He said abruptly. It was cruel but it had to be done. She had to be as far away from him as possible. It was the only way she'd get over this thing. He tossed his glance towards the ceiling. Away from her sad face. He was hating this as much as she was.

  
  


"Yeah..." She whispered. Then cleared her throat and stood. She hurried off down the corridor that lead to her room.

  
  


Spike lay back down on the couch. He rubbed at his stitches again. He thought about how unlike Julia Faye actually was. For someone who didn't believe in ghosts, aside from those pesky ones that would return from the past, the memory of Julia haunted him daily. He thought of her every few moments as though his thoughts fueled her miraculous resurrection from the dead. As though she would disappear entirely if he stopped thinking about her for even a minute. 

  
  


Poor Faye, the unlucky bitch. Things were going to be so messed up from now on. Not to mention how exhausting it would be for Spike to have to consciously be nasty to her. As oppose to unconsciously nasty to her. Now he had an agenda. He hated agendas. 

  
  


He also hated thinking when he could be sleeping.

  
  


With an exasperated sigh he stared up at the ceiling. He was tired of thinking. He had to do something. He swung his legs out to the side and brought his stockinged feet to the floor. The remains of his shredded suit and trench coat lay in a sad heap beside the arm chair. He cursed to himself as he stood up then began to inch his way slowly towards his room, probably made more helpless by the presence of bedsores than his actual injuries. He would have to wear his work clothes.

  
  


On his way to his room he poked his head into Faye's. She was standing in the middle of the room holding her gun at her side. He wondered how long she had been standing like that.

  
  


"I'm coming with you." He said. Faye didn't turn around at the sound of his voice. She shrugged her shoulders.

  
  


"Whatever." She said.

  
  



	27. Numbskull

Faye stood in the centre of her little room not sure of what to do next. Not that she was figuring that he'd reciprocate or anything. She was certain that was never going to happen. But she expected some sort of emotion on his part. Anything. Even anger would have been welcome. But he didn't seem to even care at all either way. Things were just going to go on as though this had never happened.

  
  


She wasn't sure if she minded that or not.

  
  


She bent and reached under the mattress and pulled her gun out. She felt feverish and she wanted to press something cold to her forehead. Her face must be so white right now. She pushed the gun's side against her cheek and sighed. She smirked and put the barrel of the gun against her forehead.

  
  


Ka-pow...

  
  


Time would tell if her admission was a good thing or a horrible, idiotic mistake. She brought the gun down to her side. She knew that it was out now and she'd have to face the consequences, whatever those may be. In a way she felt much better than she had in some time. She didn't have to strain to be so normal around him. She would begin to be herself again. She'd have herself back.

  
  


She was tired of thinking. She needed to do something. Perhaps a good bounty would come along. Getting a chance to fire her gun would be nice, too. Very therapeutical. She hadn't fired her gun since Spike had left. Okay, no thinking about Spike. Thinking about Spike bad thing. Very bad. Naughty Faye.

  
  


Maybe something would come of this movie thing. The whole thing seemed so intriguing. Would hold her interest for a while. Keep her mind off this tired topic. Thinking about Spike had already proved to be a bad thing. She was supposed to be on her way to the movie set but instead she was standing here like a sand statue. Jet needed her.

  
  


"I'm coming with you." 

  
  


When she heard his voice her insides churned and she felt sick. What the hell was wrong with her? He was watching her, waiting for some sort of response. What the fuck was he expecting from her?

  
  


"Whatever." She said. She heard the click of his tongue off the roof of his mouth as though he were about to say something else but then she heard him continue his way slowly down the hallway.

  
  


She held the gun out and pointed it back in the direction he had gone.

  
  


"Ka-pow." She whispered.


	28. Lounge

Spike was sore from not moving for so long.

  
  


He labouriously followed Faye through the maze of trailers and crew members feeling like an overweight middle-aged man with a wooden leg. Muscles that hadn't been used in eons ground against each other leaving him burning and tender.

  
  


Faye was smoking a cigarette and he weaved behind her inhaling her exhales because she had only one left and had taken it for herself. Occasionally she would stop and let him have a puff but something about the two of them using the same cigarette made Spike feel uncomfortable. He was thinking too much about this. Faye seemed perfectly normal again. She slunk as she walked, pretending not to notice all the crew members who stared at her backside as she passed them. She was such a kick in the pants. He smiled as men turned to whisper to each other as they stared. Faye took an extra long drag on her cigarette then flung the remains off to her side.

  
  


"So, how are we supposed to find Jet around here?" Spike asked. Faye watched the streak of fire from the burning end of the cigarette as it bounced off a wall and hit the ground.

  
  


"I don't know. I guess we just look around until...I don't know. We just keep looking around. Until we find him." Desperate for another cigarette but knowing she wouldn't find one, she ran her hands down her sides like a fresh pack would magically conjure itself from below the folds of her clothing. She frowned to herself.

  
  


"He didn't give much detail when he made the call. He just said to get down to the set. Here we are." An onset of laziness prevailed and Faye crouched down against the wall scratching at her arms. She'd peel her skin off if she didn't get another cigarette soon. She was making Spike nervous.

  
  


"Stop that. You're making me nervous. At least you can smoke." He quipped. She smirked and shook her head.

  
  


"Knowing that I can smoke is the problem. I can but I'm not." She said. She tilted her head back against the stone wall of the building and stayed quietly like that for a few moments.

  
  


"Guys!" Her eyes opened and she looked to her right to see Jet walking towards them, limping mildly due to the bullet wound from a while back. "Hey, you're actually walking without the aid of a wheelchair. Good for you, sport."

  
  


"Are you wearing mascara?" Faye stood and stretched onto the tips of her boots to see. He pushed her back down. Spike leaned in for a closer look as well but Jet shook them both off. 

  
  


"How in shape are you?" He asked Spike. Spike shrugged his shoulders.

  
  


"I'm more stiff than anything. I guess I'm okay."

  
  


"Good. Because today we're going to be stunt doubles. And I know where you can get a new suit, cheap."


	29. Cet Air La

Spike slowly eased himself into the new trousers and let Faye put his boots on for him. He tried doing as much stuff for himself as he could, hoping to stretch himself back into the man he was before the deboning accident but he still couldn't move the way he had before. He looked at the top of Faye's head as she struggled to push one of his feet into a boot. He watched her fingers whip about his ankles, knuckles white with the tugging and shoving. Jet stood to one side holding up a shirt and tie identical to Spike's old ones. The room was filled with suits exactly the same as the one he had always worn.

He felt like a cartoon character.

"I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do."

"Well," Jet began, slinging the shirt over Spike's shoulder and starting to knot the tie, "We're just here to find out some stuff about the movie. And it can't be laid out any easier. We're here, the stunt doubles are gone, we look exactly like the characters in the film..."

"We _are_ the characters in the film," Faye corrected him.

"Right. Anyways, we just spend some time on the set finding out some stuff about the script and who this Akaido guy is."

"And we get paid for it." Spike hinted. He wasn't going to hurt himself doing volunteer work.

"This gig is catered," Jet said.

Spike felt his stomach begin to feed on itself inside him at the mention of food. "I dream of meat," he said.

Faye stood and tugged at her new stay-ups. It was the only thing she bothered to take from the 'Faye' trailer. She also pocketed a whole bunch of extra ones, stuffing them wherever she could find space in her tiny outfit. Jet didn't find anything of interest in the 'Jet' trailer. Although he kept looking at himself in every reflective surface they passed as they travelled through the set. Mirrors, windows, car hoods, etc. He liked the way his eyes were looking.

The tiny, bespectacled asian girl from earlier burst into the trailer with her clipboard and a pen hanging at her side from a chain.

"Alright. You're all we've got but you'll have to do." She walked past the three briskly and turned with a stomp to face them.

"Okay, you guys don't look too bad. And I mean you're only stunt doubles so how good do you actually need to look. I'm sure Mr. Akaido will be happy. And we all live to make Mr. Akaido happy, right?" She said sarcastically. She pushed her glasses up her nose and flipped through a few pages clamped to her clipboard.

"So we need Mae for a fighting sequence coming up. I'll come and find you guys in a few hours, okay? Okay."

The three looked at each other, confused and not sure who the little oriental woman was talking to. She shot Faye an icy glare over her shoulder as she went out the door, "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go, already!"

Faye suddenly came to life and followed her down the trailer steps and out into the open air.

"This should be interesting. Faye having to do what she's told to do for a change," Spike said as he buttoned up his shirt.

"Let's go have a look around the set. See if we can find out who wrote this thing." Jet handed Spike the tie and started for the door. Spike sighed and dropped the tie around his neck. He sat there for a few moments and then,

"I think I saw luncheon meats being put out on one of the tables."

"Let's go," Spike stood and grabbed a jacket off a hanger, shoving past Jet to get outside.


	30. I've Got Levitation

Faye was trying to get into character.

  
  


She twisted her body with roundhouse kicks, her joints splintered with the contact she made whenever a part of her body connected with the jaw, the ribs, the ankles of the other stunt doubles. This was so therapeutical. She began to think she could do this for a living.

  
  


Her fresh and newly dyed violet hair spun about her ivory face as she delivered kick after punch after kick to her 'opponents'. She couldn't help but smile. She was feeling so good. Like she was perfectly executing a dance. 

  
  


When the director finally seemed satisfied with her work, she stood off to the side and watched the crew members scurry about the set preparing for the next fighting sequence. Every so often a woman would come by and run her fingers through Faye's hair, tousling it or smoothing it out depending on what the scene called for. She was enjoying the attention.

  
  


Faye was finally able to sit down for a few minutes in a nearby canvas chair. A crew member had brought over a bottle of mineral water for her to sip at. She stretched her legs out before her and relaxed into the chair. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes against the sun. She rested like that for a few moments when her lids darkened as a shadow crossed them.

  
  


"That's some good work you were doing."

  
  


Faye opened her eyes, squinting to see who was leaning over her. She could have sworn it was Spike if he hadn't been paying her a compliment.

  
  


"Thanks. I think I was born to do this." She replied.

  
  


"Well, you sure look like you were." The man crouched down beside her chair so that he was at eye-level with her. He looks almost exactly like Spike, she thought to herself. He was tall and lean, wearing the same suit Spike almost always had on. 

  
  


"Strike Segal is it?" Faye asked, offering her hand. The man momentarily closed his cool dry fingers around hers.

  
  


"Roscoe, actually." He said. "And you are...?"

  
  


"Faye." Faye crossed her ankles and leaned onto the arm of the chair towards him.

  
  


"A pleasure." Roscoe smiled.

  
  


Faye chatted back and forth with Mr. Calhoun, straying farther and farther away from the subject of movies. She knew she should be delving for information about the film but she was, in a matter of a few sentences, drawn into his stunning brown eyes. She wondered if they were real or lenses put in to make him look more like Spike. 

  
  


He was very clever, but charming. Not like Spike at all. But smart like him. And very pleasing to the eye. Faye hadn't considered being with a man for so long but she wouldn't mind having a drink with the likes of Roscoe Calhoun. He had the money and the star power to treat her the way she should be treated. 

  
  


"Unfortunately I'm not going to be finished before pretty late tonight. But if you're still around perhaps we could have a late dinner?" It was as though he had read her mind.

  
  


"Well, alright. If I'm still around." She said slyly. She was attempting at nonchalance. She didn't want to seem too eager.

  
  


Later, when she was spinning with arms and legs flailing at her 'assailants', she thought about why she had been so interested in having dinner with Mr. Calhoun. Did the fact that he looked so much like Spike play a part in it? Was she hoping to live out some sort of fantasy of being with Spike?

  
  


Okay. Gross. Best not to think about that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	31. Interlude: A Good Man is Easy to Kill

I finally feel alive again.

  
  


Not just because I got some meat in my stomach. It's more than that. I feel like I have to find a whole new direction to go in. Like that this whole bounty-hunting thing isn't just something to tide me over until what? I haven't a clue. I don't think I had a clue back then either. But it isn't just something to fall back on. It's in the foreground now. It's something I want to do. Something I'm good at (although my stomach growls a counter-attack). 

  
  


And another thing.

  
  


The colour seemed to have drained from everything. I wondered when I woke up where it all went. It seems now I know.

  
  


It's gone into her. Into them.

  
  


She amuses me somehow. Different from before. Jet's always been good for me. But her. I was never entirely sure about her. I'm still not sure about her, I guess. She's gotten me into some messy shit. But she's done some good work, too.

  
  


I suppose it's grief that's doing this to me. Making me enjoy their company so much more than before. Before it was like there was somewhere else I'd rather be. But there's nowhere else to go now. Nowhere else to be. 

  
  


It's my fault you're gone. I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have let you come with me. I knew I was being tracked. I shouldn't have gotten you involved. I'm such a selfish bastard. I didn't want to let you out of my sight again. I was afraid I'd lose you again.

  
  


I read somewhere once that ghosts haunt their murderers.

  
  


Haunt me.

  
  


I know I don't believe in stuff like that but even if it meant I'd become demented I'd want to have you back in my life in some sort of form. Any form at all. I don't care. I'd gladly become one of those homeless people you see in alleys pushing shopping carts talking to themselves if it meant I thought I was talking to you.

  
  


I suppose it's happening already. I'm talking to you now, aren't I? 

  
  


At night I dream that you're drowning me. I wake up clammy, sticking to the sheets, my body thinking its betraying me. You're drowning me and you hate me. You want me to die with you.

  
  


My body doesn't know I'd welcome the water to flood my lungs. I'd gladly have you hate me. As long as it meant you were still inside of me somewhere.

  
  


Fuck, I miss you.

  
  



	32. Ballad of the Lonely Argonaut

Through his still and dark eyes he could see them. The scent of them filled his nostrils. 

  
  


He had almost been tricked a couple of times but the scent always gave the others away. He knew it wasn't really them.

  
  


But these two. He knew right away it was them. Even though the other one was missing. He didn't care much for the third one, anyways. She was never really very nice to him. But he supposed he missed her all the same. He liked to poke his nose in her boot and drool there. He knew it upset her and inwardly he thought it was very funny although he would pretend to be sad when she admonished him for the act.

  
  


But he did like how she smelled.

  
  


And he liked the fuzzy-haired one's boots.

  
  


And the big bald guy, Jet, and how he rubbed the nape of his neck.

  
  


He missed them.

  
  


He rested beneath the table in one of the alleys. His head lay on its side against the dusty floor and he waited for someone to drop some food from the table top. He watched the fuzzy-haired one eat a pastry at the end of the alley. The bald one leaned against the wall across from him sipping something from a paper cup. He missed the weight of the bald one's cybernetic hand on the top of his head. 

  
  


He licked at his nose and felt one of his back legs twitch with the movement. He snuffled at the ground and decided to go pay the two a visit. 

  
  


Perhaps they would be happy to see him.

  
  


It's been ages in dog years.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Spike, we're getting lazy. We should stop eating and do something. Try to find the director or a writer or someone." Jet took a long swig of what was left of his coffee. It was too sweet. He had gotten excited when he saw the sugar and thought he'd give himself a treat, drinking his coffee with cream and sugar for a change. His tastebuds had gotten used to the bitter coffee-like substance on the ship. 

  
  


He watched Spike with lemon filling on his chin. Spike was enjoying the spread so much he wasn't even grinning like usual. He had this determined look on his face. Like he was going to clear the table of its contents. Jet was glad he wouldn't have to hear Spike complain about the lack of food on the ship for a while. Just a while, though.

  
  


Spike pushed the rest of the danish into his mouth and reached to the ground for his cup of coffee, crumbs tumbling from the corners of his lips.

  
  


"Okay." He said. "I'll just finish my coffee and we'll start. I promise."

  
  


"Alright." Jet figured he might as well have another danish himself while Spike was drinking his coffee. He backed up from the mouth of the alley. That's when he heard a squeal.

  
  


"What?" Spike looked up from his cup towards Jet.

  
  


"Someone's dog." He said. He turned his body to face whatever he had almost threatened to crush with his hulking figure. The stubby welsh corgi snuffled at the ground then raised his head to look up at Jet.

  
  


"Our dog." Jet said.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	33. Twist and Crawl

"Hey, old boy!" Jet crouched down and took the dog's face between his hands, giving him a good rub about his neck. Ein's tail wagged appreciatively. He jogged about in circles around the two men, barking.

  
  


"What the hell is he doing here? Are you sure that's him?" Spike looked at the dog suspiciously. Ein stood up on his hind legs and twirled around, falling and landing on his side..

  
  


"Yeah, it's gotta be him." Jet said. "What are you doing here?" He asked Ein as though he could answer. Ein continued to walk about in circles.

  
  


"Does that mean Ed's around here somewhere?" Spike looked back over his two shoulders as though the crazy flame-haired girl would magically appear.

  
  


"What do you say, Ein? Is Ed around?" Jet brought a heavy hand down on the dog and rubbed his back affectionately. Spike still looked as though something were not quite right.

  
  


"Obviously they have something to do with the movie. Let's see if we can find Ed 'round here somewhere." He took a few steps towards the end of the alley when his legs suddenly seemed to stop working. He looked down and the kid was sniffing his boots.

  
  


Ed wrapped her long, rubbery arms about Spike's legs, "Spike!" She practically barked. She reached out a hand and took hold of a fold in Jet's pants. "And Jet!"

  
  


"Obviously the script called for a freaky kid and her mutt." Spike said. He took hold of Ed's wrists and pried her off of him. She immediately leapt up into his arms and threw her arms around his head.

  
  


"Ed missed Spike's hair." She sunk her face into Spike's dark, unruly hair and inhaled deeply. She looked over at Jet and smiled, leaning her fresh cheek against the top of Spike's head. Spike struggled to get away.

  
  


"What's going on? Why are you here?" Jet asked as Spike whirled and whipped about with Ed clamped around his neck. Ed sprang from Spike's arms and began to cartwheel around the pair. 

  
  


"Father-person is helping movie people." She paused to answer while standing on her hands. She waved a foot towards a trailer at the other end of the alley. "He finds places."

  
  


"Like a location scout or something?" Spike was asking Jet more than Ed. He could never figure out what Ed was talking about. The kid was walking around on her hands. Spike resisted the urge to grab her and shake the information out of her. She was obviously done talking to them about father-person.

  
  


"So do you think they might have got the idea to do this movie from Ed?" Jet stood from petting Ein and scratched the top of his head.

  
  


"I don't think Ed has any ideas to spare to tell you the honest truth." Spike answered. He couldn't imagine Ed stringing together enough coherent sentences to be able to put together a film. Someone else had to be behind this.

  
  


"Hey, Ed," Jet began, turning the child upright and holding her to the spot. "Do you think you could take us to see your father?"

  
  


Ed seemed to think about it for a second before answering with a maniacal grin, "Yes! Follow Ed!" She spread her arms out to her side and sped off around the corner making airplane noises with Ein barking and running after her. Spike sighed, irritated and already tired from watching her for five minutes. Jet didn't notice. He was already off following the nutty kid.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	34. Hello Resolven

"Hello to you all...wake up the king, wake up the queen, everybody laugh, everybody sing..." Ed sang and flew with her arms out to her sides. She wished she could really fly although her body was so lithe it felt almost as though her feet weren't even touching the ground. She stopped dead in her tracks and Ein skidded to a halt several feet ahead of her, kicking up dust. She twirled about a few times waiting for Jet and Spike to catch up. Jet was out of breath by the time he had made it to where the girl and her dog stood. Spike slowly maneuvered his way through the crowds of movie people. He wouldn't run if there was a fire.

  
  


"Fire! Fire!" Ed yelled. "Fire in my heart for you!" She moved her arms about and danced on the spot. She didn't like this standing still thing at all right now. She was far too happy to see her friends again. She was sure they would never find her unless she found them first. "Found you! Found you!" She cried out. She drew one leg up behind her like a ballet dancer, her brown and calloused foot sticking up into the air.

  
  


"How do we know she's even leading us to her father?" She heard Spike call out to Jet. O, ye of little faith. Spike's brain was sometimes as fluffy as his hair. Fluffy, fluffy, fluffy. Ed knew he didn't trust her all that much. He still thought she was just some kid. But she knew that wasn't true. She would have more kid-friends and less people-friends if that were the case. Wouldn't she? 

  
  


"Ed...are you sure this is the way to your father?" Jet asked. She knew Jet was only asking to satisfy the Spike-person. Jet trusted her. Jet knew she was a real member of the Bebops. She smiled and got warm when she thought of it. Jet was her best friend. Next to Ein, of course. 

  
  


"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Father-person is this way!" She said, although she wasn't entirely sure. There were so many people around. But she was sure they'd run into him eventually.

  
  


She started to run again even though Spike was glowering at her and Jet was still a little out of breath. She was so glad things were like they used to be. She wondered where Faye was.

  
  


"There's Faye-Faye!" Her golden eyes grew wide and she waved frantically at one of the Fayes sipping a bottle of mineral water on the other side of the road that was blocked off. "Hi Faye-Faye!" She didn't even blink when she saw a second Faye walk past them. "Hi again, Faye-Faye!" She said. 

  
  


Jet looked back over his shoulder at Spike and shrugged his shoulders. Spike rolled his eyes.

  
  


"Where the hell is he already?" He called ahead.

  
  


Ed turned to face them, skipping backwards. "He's this way. This way, this way, this way." She sang. Perhaps she wouldn't lead them to her father. She was enjoying this much more. It was funny when the two men were so serious. 

  
  


She had to admit, it was strange that there were so many skinny Spike-persons and big-Jet-guys and Faye-Fayes. But Father explained it to her. She was very excited at first, thinking of all the potential friends she could make. But none of these new people were like the Bebops. That's why she was so happy to have found Spike-person and big-Jet-guy again.

  
  


"Any girl can make me smile...but only you can make me cry..."


	35. Minus

I'm not sure how I feel about all this.

  
  


Spike sauntered a ways behind Jet and the kid and the dog. He wasn't altogether prepared for a bebop reunion of this magnitude. He was happy about seeing Jet again and, although he'd never admit it to anyone, was sort of beginning to enjoy Faye's company. 

  
  


But this was just too much. 

  
  


Ed flew on ahead of them waving frantically at different crew members and cast, Ein nipping at her heels. Jet jogged ahead of Spike. Spike was concentrating on not splitting in half. His ribs ached whenever he stood up straight. As a result he was stooped over like a hunchback. He hated being weak. Absolutely hated it.

  
  


Jet looked back over his shoulder as he ran just to make sure Spike was alright. He seemed okay. Tired and probably sore, but that's what getting hacked almost in two was going to do to you, right? Jet was still recovering from being shot in the leg recently, so he knew how it was as he lumbered on after Ed and Ein with only a slight limp left of it.

  
  


He was pretty happy to have Ed and Ein back. He hadn't realized how much he missed having them around until now. He wondered absently if they were going to join the crew again. But he wasn't Ed's father. Ed had one now. Not that Jet wanted a kid or anything but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have a family. Not this messed up group of freaks he had assembled, but a wife and kids and a job to go to every morning and come home from every evening. Someone to sleep beside at night. Someone aside from Ein who would sleep at the foot of his bed every so often. Faye was a good girl but she was a poor substitute for a wife. Or maybe Spike was the wife substitute. That made him laugh inside. What a nice-looking couple the two of them would make; the big bald guy and his beryl-headed wife, Spike.

  
  


Spike moved through the crowd almost head and shoulders above everyone else. Even pitched forward. He kept one hand dug down deep into his pants' pocket and the other in front of his middle to keep it from scraping against anything. Ed continued to wave at various people as she passed them. 

  
  


"Hi, Faye!" She called out to yet another Faye she scurried by. Spike looked over and saw the Faye leaned over a Spike sitting in a canvas chair. This was a different Faye, though. This was the real Faye.

  
  


She looked up and shielded her eyes from the sun beating down on them. She had heard Ed's voice. Was there an Ed in this movie, too? She put her fingers down gingerly on Mr. Calhoun's shoulder, "I'll be right back."

  
  


"You'd better be." He smiled the same sort of quirky smile Spike sometimes smiled.

  
  


She jogged across the street and saw the real Spike leaning against a wall. He wasn't looking too good but she held back the urge to run to him and ask him if he was okay. Instead she reached behind her ear and pulled out a cigarette she had managed to get off of Mr. Calhoun. Spike looked up and saw her coming and pulled out his lighter for her. It was more instinct that gallantry that made him do this. She tipped the cigarette into the flame he produced and took a long drag. Her first cigarette in hours.

  
  


"Was that Ed I just saw?"

  
  


"Yep."

  
  


"What's she doing here?" Faye passed the cigarette to Spike who took it between his fingers.

  
  


"Apparently her father has something to do with this film. She's supposed to be taking us to see him. Jet's up there running after her and the dog. I need to rest for a minute. How's the movie star biz?"

  
  


Faye tried to unsuccessfully hide her thrill about the whole thing. "It's okay."

  
  


Spike had to approach this next subject with caution. He didn't want to make it seem like he cared too much. "So, who's that?" He nodded across the street at Mr. Calhoun.

  
  


"That's Roscoe." She said, smirking.

  
  


"Pfff...Doesn't look anything like me." He said, inhaling deeply through the cigarette. He held it back out to Faye.

  
  


"Yeah." Faye said, humouring him. He wasn't up for an argument.

  
  


"Have you found anything out?"

  
  


"Not yet. But I'll have ample opportunity tonight at dinner." Faye couldn't hide her smile this time.

  
  


"Dinner?"

  
  


"With Roscoe. He invited me."

  
  


Spike looked down the street to see if he could spot Jet. Jet had stopped about a block away. He waved at Spike who waved back at him.

  
  


"You're going out with him?"

  
  


"Yes."

  
  


Spike grinned, "You know, he isn't me."

  
  


"Therein lies his appeal." Faye grinned back.

  
  



	36. Spin the Bottle

Pinned to Mr. Calhoun's shag carpet, her back aching from the weight of him, her neck cool from the air flushing itself through the window, Faye realized that this was all wrong.

  
  


That idiot was right.

  
  


This guy wasn't him.

  
  


She could really kill Spike for being right sometimes.

  
  


Everything was perfect. What the hell was wrong with her? This guy was a genuinely nice guy. They had a good dinner together. They went for a ride. She had chocolates and licked icing sugar from her fingertips. He had eaten some, too, and he tasted like maraschino cherries and the best chocolate. He was funny and smart. He went on about how beautiful she was. He opened the car door for her to get in. He ran around the car to get the door again for her when they arrived at his two-storey apartment. He was absolutely wonderful.

  
  


And Faye would have no problem repaying him for his kindness the best way she knew she could. 

  
  


Except for one thing.

  
  


It was his hands.

  
  


They were all wrong.

  
  


She wasn't sure why this was bothering her so much. But she thought of Spike's hands. The way he held his chopsticks when he ate. The way they curled towards the floor when he fell asleep on the couch. How his hand would hold a gun. All these stupid little things about something as dumb as Spike's hands. Who cares? What was her problem?

  
  


Quite suddenly she felt like she was going to vomit.

  
  


She violently pushed Mr. Calhoun off of her and paused only a second to reacertain the location of the bathroom. She didn't quite make it to the toilet, throwing up in his large bathtub instead. What a shame to see all that good food go to waste.

  
  


Mr. Calhoun poked his head into the bathroom, knocking on the door to signal his presence. Faye didn't look up. She hung her head further into the bathtub. 

  
  


"Are you alright?"

  
  


Such a nice guy. This was all wrong.

  
  


"Yeah. I don't know what's wrong with me. Something from dinner must be upsetting me or something..." How could she possibly explain?

  
  


"Well...listen...how about I lend you a bathrobe and you can wash up or something?" He came into the room and crouched down beside her.

  
  


"Trying to get my clothes off?" Faye joked sourly. He was such a gentleman, that was probably the furthest thing from his mind right now. She wiped her mouth and looked back over her shoulder at him. He smiled. She had to get out of here. She thought about how she had told Spike she would find out some info about the movie from Mr. Calhoun. She'd feel bad returning to the ship with nothing to show for her absence but she had to get the hell out of this place right now before she felt guilty enough to sleep with this guy.


	37. The Modern Age

I slept well last night.

  
  


It wasn't like I wasn't going to. I mean, even though she was still out when I finally dozed off. I didn't have any trouble sleeping.

  
  


So why am I lying here wondering if she's in her room this morning?

  
  


I need a good, stiff drink. But I can't have anything because of all the medication I'm on. I'm not even supposed to be smoking but that's just too much. I keep expecting smoke to seep through the gauze that's still tightly wrapped around me. Like between the stitches or something.

  
  


I wonder if she crept in after I fell asleep and she's in her room right now. Like, he made some crummy pass at her and she wasn't having it and decked him. That would be like Faye. Or would it be more like Faye to sleep with the guy cause he's got enough money to take care of that nasty little debt of hers? I don't know.

  
  


Let's think about something else, shall we? 

  
  


She's probably sleeping with a smile on her face in that bed of hers dreaming about how jealous I was yesterday. And to be quite honest, I'd have done the same thing. I don't know what was wrong with me yesterday. I wasn't thinking.

  
  


Okay, this whole admission of her attraction to me is disturbing. Like, I think about it a lot. I wouldn't have had the balls to admit something like that to someone like me. That would be just asking for it. I sort of admire her for that. But at the same time I'm astonished at her stupidity. 

  
  


She's cute. She's smart when she wants to be. But she's just too goddamned sentimental. She's probably just never had a proper relationship with a man before. And I happened to be there. She could have fallen for anyone if they had been in my place. I'm sure of it.

  
  


She's cute.

  
  


You know what really ticked me off most about yesterday? I mean besides the unfounded jealousy? All I kept thinking last night after she had left for her date with Mr. Calhoun was that she didn't belong with him. She didn't belong to him.

  
  


She belongs to us.

  
  


She belongs to me.

  
  


And I wasn't sure where the hell that had come from either. But I had this gnawing feeling in my stomach that if she was attracted to me she couldn't be attracted to anyone else. Crazy, huh? Like, what is my problem?

  
  


God's punishing me again. I'm starting to believe in him. Too much crazy crap has happened to me over the past few years. God and his wicked sense of humour are fucking with me. Like, really. Vicious, Julia. The dog, the kid. Shit.

  
  


God's probably a crazy broad in suspenders and hot pants.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	38. Throw Your Arms Around Me

I will come to you at night time

And I will raise you from your sleep

I will kiss you in four places

As I go running along your street

  
  


I will squeeze the life out of you

You will make me laugh and make me cry

And we will never forget it

You will make you call your name

And I'll shout it to the blue summer sky

  
  


And may never meet again

So shed your skin and let's get started

And you will throw your arms around me

Yes, you will throw your arms around me

  
  


Faye slipped into a t-shirt after scrubbing furiously at her teeth and gums with her toothbrush. She slid her feet out of their slippers on reaching her bed, glad another day was finally over. She had been feeling this way a lot lately and wasn't entirely sure why. 

  
  


Let's see. Could it be because you're in love with a guy who'll never love you back? That you feel like you need to sleep all the time so that you won't have to think about him or speak to him or miss him when he's not around? So, so sad. How did she turn into this?

  
  


She brought her legs in under the sheets and slammed herself into the mattress, instantly pulling the blankets up and over her shoulder. She curled up on her side and squeezed her eyes closed.

  
  


Sleep, dammit.

  
  


Unsettling, besides the crush on Spike and all the torturous symptoms that went with it was that, like a masochist, she was eating up the sweet and awful pain. She couldn't deny that it was nice feeling this way about someone. It meant that she wasn't yet as tough as a whore. Love could still be felt.

  
  


Was that what this was? She wondered that again. She hadn't felt it in so long. It seemed different from what she felt for Whitney. With Whitney it was enough to let herself be taken care of. Of course, that had turned out to be a big joke. But it was good for as long as it had happened and it taught her that she couldn't rely on anyone but herself. Spike. This thing with Spike was so different. Her feelings felt so much more mature. She wanted to wrap herself around him. Let him fill every space in her body with every part of his. 

  
  


She slept with these thoughts in her head.

  
  


Spike's beautiful hands. Yes, beautiful. Touching every part of her. Her hair, her face, the soft spot below her ear, her neck. 

He dragged his thumb along her bottom lip, pushing her lips apart before tearing at her with his mouth. She felt his teeth dig into her and she pushed herself mercilessly forward, her hands in his hair, her ankles crossing over his as he pulls himself on top of her.

  
  


She starts, suddenly awake. Ashamed of herself and how warm her skin suddenly feels. Wondering if Spike, lying on the couch on the other side of the ship, could feel her thoughts. She would immediately drop dead if that were the case. Her hands were cool from being beneath her pillow and she brought them against her hot face. She took a deep breath. This was going to kill her.

  
  


After this last job, she was leaving.

  
  
  
  


-The song I opened with is Throw Your Arms Around Me by Hunters & Collectors...don't sue me, please.


	39. She's Got Spies

We walked around for ages and never saw him.

  
  


I think the kid was taking us for a ride.

  
  


Spike was right. And he's almost never right, so I don't know what the hell is going on. Armageddon or something.

  
  


He's such a moron. Didn't want to admit that the reason he was sleeping on the couch was because Faye was out with that guy. Spike thinks I'm in the dark about so many things. I should be insulted. But it's better this way. Knowing what's really up with him being the one in the dark, I mean. He sleeps on that couch all the time, so I could be wrong. But I don't think I am. 

  
  


I think he wanted to see if she came back tonight. Which she did. I'm impressed actually. Guy with money. Enough money to be a drop in the bucket compared to the debt she's got. And looking like Spike, too. Dropped in the lap of luxury, she was. But I have to admire her. She's got some scruples after all.

  
  


I've been thinking a lot about this movie. I've wondered about it every which way and I can't, for the life of me, figure out who could be behind it. Someone who knows all about us. About our pasts and the people in our lives.

  
  


The package. I'm convinced this movie thing is somehow linked to that package Faye received that long while back. Someone is tracking us. And they want something from Faye. It must be. And they must have been after her for a while to have managed to gather this much information about us.

  
  


I knew she'd get us into trouble somehow.

  
  


Damn broad.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A good-looking guy. Young. Virile. A beautiful girl. Alone in the universe.

  
  


Of course there'd be sexual tension.

  
  


They're only human, after all.

  
  


He's going to be a lot harder to bring over, though.

  
  


The body of his girlfriend's still warm.

  
  


But it's only a matter of time.

  
  


It's only a matter of time.


	40. Electrolyte

Your eyes are burning holes through me

I'm gasoline

I'm burning clean

  
  


20th century go to sleep

You're plasticine

That is obscene

That is obscene

  
  


You are the star tonight

Your sun

Electric 

Outta sight

Your light eclipse the moon tonight

Electrolyte

You're outta sight

  
  


If I ever want to fly

Mulhulland Drive

I am alive

  
  


Hollywood is under me

I'm Martin Sheen

I'm Steve McQueen

I'm Jimmy Dean

  
  


If you ever want to fly

Mulhulland Drive

Up in the sky

  
  


Your eyes are burning holes through me

I'm not scared

I'm outta here

I'm not scared

I'm outta here

  
  


Faye woke with a mouth swollen from imaginary kisses. She showered and her fingers lingered here and there on her white body expecting to see bruises left over from the night before. 

  
  


She wandered out into the living room, cautiously. Her steps towards it fell lithely like a cat's. She didn't want to have a run-in with Spike. She didn't trust herself right now. Her head was still fuzzy with flashbacks. His hands. His eyes on her like they had been placed in his skull solely for that purpose. His mouth tearing carnivorously at her lips, her jaw and shoulders.

  
  


Stop thinking about it.

  
  


Think about how he'd throttle you if he found out you'd been thinking about that. You promised for his sake you wouldn't make things complicated for him.

  
  


For his sake.

  
  


What the hell was happening to her?

  
  


Shit.

  
  


Okay. The movie. Think about the movie.

  
  


She gave her head a good shake and walked determinedly into the living room. She needn't have been so worried about meeting Spike in there. He wasn't.

  
  


She sighed and smiled to herself, feeling silly.

  
  


"Maybe you can be in my next movie." Someone leaned over and hissed with mock seduction in her ear. She whirled around on her boot heels.

  
  


"Oh, just shut up." She said. Spike was such an asshole. What the hell did she see in him anyways?

  
  


"So, how's Mr. Calhoun?"

  
  


"Jealous?" She tossed lightly as she headed for the kitchen. She could feel Spike smiling behind her. The pink rose from her breasts up to her cheeks. She hoped he couldn't see that.

  
  


"Only of the dinner he must have bought you." He said. She reached up and felt around for Jet's stash of smokes above the refrigerator. She stretched herself onto the tips of her boots, her fingers fully extended. She couldn't reach. Spike stretched easily past her and plucked the half empty carton of cigarettes off the top of the fridge. When he slouched back his chest was almost touching her.

  
  


They stood there awkwardly for a moment. She became aware of every fibre in her being in those few seconds that passed. Her body swayed as though her legs were about to go out from under her. 

  
  


Spike broke away suddenly, saying casually, "You know, there's a reason why Jet keeps these things out of your reach." He drew the carton from his lips, a cigarette clamped between them. He reached up and replaced the pack, turned, and left the kitchen.

  
  


Faye stood there staring after him for a few moments before narrowing her eyes and growling.

  
  


"I hate him."

  
  


She followed him out into the living room.

  
  


"Listen," She began. Spike's eyes were closed. He was lying on the couch. "After we figure out this movie thing..." Was he going to open his eyes and look at her? "...I'm going to get out of your hair."

  
  


"You've said that before." He answered after a long silence. He stretched out his legs and rested them on the coffee table.

  
  


"I know." Faye said.

  
  


"Jet's not going to take you back again. You hear that? You leave and you're not going to be able to come back." He sighed.

  
  


"I know." She said again. His eyes were still closed. She wanted to tear his eyelids off.

  
  


"Just as long as you know." He said.

  
  


Faye walked carefully towards the couch. "Spike,"

  
  


"What?" Spike answered, irritated. "Listen, I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get a reaction from me. You're trying to get me to beg you to stay. Well, that's not going to happen. I couldn't care less if you stayed or fucked right off."

  
  


Her immediate response was to strangle him. But then something else occurred to her.

  
  


"Yeah, you do." She said evenly.

  
  


"Fuck you."

  
  


"It isn't just me, is it? It's you, too." The words were barely out of her mouth before Spike flew at her, slamming her into the wall with his hands on either side of her head. Her whole body was shaking. She could swear he was going to punch her. She stupidly wondered where his cigarette had gone.

  
  


His hands suddenly went limp and slipped from the wall. He whipped his body around and stormed off down the corridor.

  
  


Faye fell in a heap on the floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

  
  
  
  


Once again...the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from 'Electrolyte' by R.E.M. I'm not a huge R.E.M. fan but this is a pretty good song. And it mentions Steve McQueen who kicketh of the ass! Don't sue me.


	41. Decepticon

The only dignified thing left to do at this point in time was to drink a helluva lot.

  
  


Faye raided every cupboard, drawer, corner, the inside of every book...anything that might hide some money. Finally she found some at the bottom of a jar of nuts and bolts in Jet's workshop. A good hiding place, she thought, smirking to herself while dumping the contents on the table before her. She bent low to put the money inside her boot. Not much, but enough to get her good and drunk. She didn't feel sorry for taking it.

  
  


She ended up in some dingy hole with a hot nuts machine and a sawdust-covered floor. She curled herself around a drink inside a booth and pulled her sweater up over her shoulders. Stretching her arms out before her she rested her head against the warm, sticky surface of the table. Sun and heat streamed outside and she was happy for the hiding place.

  
  


"There's something you need to pick up." 

  
  


Faye looked up and a blonde, frizzy-haired waitress was standing over her. Faye squinted, struggling for recognition. Did she know this woman?

  
  


"What?" Faye asked. She took a long swig of her drink and sat back in the booth. The waitress held out a napkin with some scribbles on it.

  
  


"You're Faye, right? Faye Valentine?"

  
  


"Yeah?" Faye took the napkin from her when she pushed it out under her nose.

  
  


"A call came in. They said you needed to go pick something up. They have something for you."

  
  


"Who's 'they'? What sort of package?" Not another package. Not barely a trace of her past could be found when she was looking for it. Now that she had decided she was finished with it, all this junk kept popping up. She looked to the waitress as though she could answer all her questions. Any questions. But the woman shrugged her shoulders and asked her if she wanted anything to eat. Faye shook her head, took her glass in her hand and made music with the ice inside. The waitress smiled and made her way back behind the bar.

  
  


Another package.

  
  


Someone was fucking with her head.

  
  


She fucked with her own head quite enough, thank you. She didn't need the aid of outside parties. She poked her tongue out at the bottom of her glass to be sure she got every last drop just in time for the waitress to bring her another drink. 

  
  


She glanced at the napkin the information was scribbled on. She felt something creepy run up her spine. She had thought she was being paranoid back when she received the videocassette. She had this feeling she was being tracked. When nothing happened for a while after that she figured whatever it was, it was all over. But someone knew she was in this bar right at this moment. Someone knew where she slept at night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


I could murder her.  
  
Spike paced in his little room. Four walls and a yellowed Bruce Lee poster that had been torn almost in half and then taped back up again. A tiny bed he didn't like sleeping on. So he barely paced. There wasn't really enough room for pacing.  
  
He can't believe he let a woman chase him out of a room.  
  
"Bitch." He spat. He fell back onto the bed, realizing the futility of pacing. Wasting all that energy and not even covering any ground. He grabbed up some of his sheets in his hand and squeezed. Like he wanted to squeeze Faye's neck.  
  
He thought about Julia and crushed his eyes shut. Why was all this crazy shit happening to him? He felt as though he and the bed were spinning. He mashed his hands against his eyelids and took a deep breath. He reached his hand out towards the stool by his head and felt it for cigarettes. When his hand lay flat on an empty surface his arm lashed out and knocked the stool across the

room.  
  
Julia's hair shimmered when it was wet. Her black sweater was warm and moist with rain. These were the few things he could remember from his last meeting with her. Was the memory of her going to leave him completely? He couldn't let that happen. The only way she'd live on was through him. She hadn't any family or friends, really, that he had been aware of. He knew as much about her as he knew about the people around him now. Not very much, that. They hadn't really very much time to get to know each other. Everything between them had developed fierce and fast.  
  
Like being hit by a car.  
  
This thing he was feeling for Faye wasn't love. It was dirty. It was brutal. He wanted to rip into her and devour her. It was like he was being struck by some flesh-eating disease. And it was all wrong. The timing couldn't have possibly been worse. He was weak because he'd just lost the only thing that had meant anything to him. With Vicious and Julia gone, his life had lost all direction. He had nothing.  
  
Fuck.  


He hated to lose his cool. And that's what he just did right in front of the last person he ever wanted to lose it in front of.  


He's such an idiot.  
  
He sighed and felt himself begin to relax. He removed his hands from his face and let his arms rest at his sides.  
  
"You're losing it." He whispered to himself. After all, none of this should bother him unless he felt the same way about Faye as Faye felt about him.  
  
And there was no chance in hell that was ever going to happen.  
  
So what was his problem?  



	42. Sunday Girl

The very thick, dark-skinned tower of a man slapped his hand on Jet's back so hard, Jet almost tossed his lungs out into the open air with the force.

  
  


"Nice to see you again, sir!" Appledelhi Siniz Hesap Lufen, father of the strange, unexplainable entity that is Ed, laughed in a booming voice. Jet assured himself of his balance before scratching the back of his head with one hand and offering his other hand to Appledelhi. Appledelhi shook it fiercely and grinned a very Ed-like grin.

  
  


"Ed tell's me you have some questions. After another bounty, then?" 

  
  


"How did you end up with this gig?"

  
  


"Come into my trailer and I'll tell you all about it! Macintosh! Put on the kettle!" He called into the door of his trailer. His assistant's voice responded tiredly, "Macintire, sir," as though he had to correct him seventy times a day.

  
  


Appledelhi motioned Jet to enter and followed him in. There wasn't much room to do anything what with all the geological equipment and maps rolled up and filling every available bit of space that wasn't occupied by the fold-out bed, small kitchen and Macintire. Appledelhi pushed Jet down by his shoulders so that he was sitting on the bed. He himself sat on a canvas chair he pulled out from a closet. 

  
  


"Well, I'm not much for leaving things incomplete so I was somewhat reluctant to leave my work. But the money's a good thing when you have a kid to take care of. You know how Ed eats, too." He laughed heartily and craned his neck to see if his trusted assistant was working on that tea. "And of course, the flattery. They greased me up pretty good begging me to join the team." 

  
  


Not that the story wasn't interesting, but Jet needed to get straight to his reason for being here.

"Do you have any idea who came up with the idea for this film? Like, who's behind it?"

  
  


Appledelhi scratched the broad expanse that was the back of his neck and smiled. "Well, you should know that."

  
  


"I should?" Jet's eyebrows knitted together. He ran his hand over the imaginary itch on his cybernetic arm.

  
  


"Well, yeah. I'm not sure what sort of a game you're playing here. I mean, the whole thing was that broad's idea." Appledelhi said. He laughed again, reaching over and slapping Jet on the back.

  
  


"Broad?" Jet didn't like where this was going. He hoped it wasn't where he thought it was.

  
  


A little frown appeared on Appledelhi's face. "Yeah. Faye. Faye Valentine."

  
  


It was going exactly where he thought it was going.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Faye stood in front of the building the napkin had identified as the location of the pick-up. What she found in its place was a hair salon. This couldn't be right. What the hell would a hair salon have to do with Faye's package? Was this all some sort of trick someone was playing on her. Something to lure her out into the open? 

  
  


She whipped her body around, her gun appearing in her hands seemingly from nowhere. People on the street gasped and scurried out of her way. This was probably not a good idea, she thought to herself. After all, she hadn't a clue who or what to aim at. She was also pretty woozy from drinking. Whoever was watching her knew exactly where she was and was probably not drunk. She tucked the gun back into it's home under her arm and sweater and walked cautiously into the hair salon.

  
  


Inside, the normalcy was surreal. Women sat in the waiting area flipping through magazines and gabbing with each other. Other women towards the back were getting washes, cuts, and styles and chatting inanely about different topics. Dance music was being pumped through the various speakers hanging from the walls. It's been a while since Faye got to sit down for a haircut. She went up to the receptionist area, feeling very out of place. She leaned towards the young woman behind the counter, "Er...I'm Faye Valentine."

  
  


The girl looked at her strangely then began flipping through the appointment book. "Who's your appointment with?"

  
  


Faye bit her lip, "Um...I don't have an appointment. I got a phone call saying I was supposed to pick something up."

  
  


"Oh...okay. It's you. We were waiting for you. Are you a regular here? Seems sort of weird that someone would leave something here for you to pick up." So much for getting some answers. The girl leaned down under her desk and pulled out a large cookie tin and handed it to her, "Here you go. Have a nice day."

  
  


Faye took the tin up in her arms and wandered outside with it. She walked down the street until she found a park and an unoccupied bench. She pulled the lid off the cookie tin and drove her hands inside.

  
  


"What the hell is this?"


	43. No Sympathy

Faye trudged down the corridor with the large cookie tin under her arm. She dropped it once she reached her room, letting it plop down onto the bed. She still didn't know what to make of it.

  
  


She could smell something being burnt, oil and vegetables and some sort of pork or beef or something. She entered the main room and hung over the railing so that she was hovering above Spike who was in his usual place, rooted to the bright orange sofa below. 

  
  


"Did I miss anything exciting?" She asked, dangling her arms. She looked at her fingernails. She'd really been neglecting them lately. They were sort of ragged from her nervous habit of biting them. She'd been doing a lot of that lately.

  
  


"So how much did Akaido pay you?" He asked casually. He tipped his cigarette into the ashtray on the floor by his head, tapping the loose ashes from it. He brought it back to his lips.

  
  


"Pay me? Pay me for what?" Faye straightened when she heard someone coming up behind her.

  
  


"For giving him the idea to do the movie. For selling our stories." Jet added gruffly. Faye turned to look at him and then back at Spike.

  
  


"What are you talking about?"

  
  


"Oh, come on! Appledelhi told us! How much money did you make off of us?" Spike glared up at Faye with a frown on his face. "We're supposed to be comrades, remember? You were the one who was always telling us that."

  
  


Faye was indignant, something she wasn't too often. Her eyes narrowed angrily at Spike. She turned instead to look at Jet. "Who's Apple-whoeverthefuck? I don't have anything to do with that movie. I'm asking all the same questions as you!" She cried. Then suddenly pleaded for Jet to believe her with her eyes, "We are comrades! Why would I sell you guys out? And anyways, half of that stuff about you I didn't even know about."

  
  


"We know you didn't do it alone. You're not clever enough to find all that stuff out on your own. You had help." Spike spat. Faye gripped the railing until her knuckles were white and sharp like arrowheads. "Right. Who?"

  
  


"Ed." Jet answered. "And we figured something else out, too. All this crazy shit that's been happening to us the past little while...it all has something to do with that tape and deck you got. Those packages. Someone's in on this thing with you. Ed's just a kid. She doesn't know any better. But we work together. How could you do something like this to us?" Jet seemed more hurt than angry. He looked like he really wanted to know why this had happened. Spike, on the other hand, looked betrayed and furious. Like he didn't care why this had happened, but that he was going to end it. Probably by throwing Faye out a window.

  
  


"I can't believe you think I'd do this to you. You're all I have. I wouldn't mess with that."

  
  


"You're nothing but a greedy bitch. We should have handed you in when we had the chance."

  
  


"Come on! Don't say that! I swear I have nothing to do with this movie. I've never met Akaido or Apple-whoever or anyone. I don't have any money. Search my room if you don't believe me. If you find anything, you can condemn me or whatever the hell."

  
  


Jet let out a long sigh. He stood staring at Faye with his hands on his hips. "I don't know what else to think, Faye. I'd like to believe that you don't have anything to do with all this shit. But I don't know..."

  
  


"Jet..." Faye begged. Suddenly, Spike rushed up the stairs and shoved past the two of them. He stomped down the hallway, "Screw both of you and all this talking!" He marched into Faye's room and started opening drawers and compartments. He overturned her mattress and the cookie tin went bouncing across the floor, hitting the wall.

  
  


Jet and Faye had followed him. Faye was almost in hysterics when she saw what he was doing to her room. Jet stood back and wondered if he should stop Spike or not. He hoped Spike wouldn't find anything.

  
  


"You're fucking crazy!" Faye cried, leaping onto Spike's back. Spike threw her off of him and pushed her out into the hallway. His eyes fell on the cookie tin. He took it in both his hands and Faye jumped at him again, grabbing at his arms. "Leave it!" She screamed.

  
  


Spike tore the lid off and what seemed like hundreds of envelopes and photographs fell out onto the floor. Spike was suddenly calm as Faye fell to the ground, gathering papers and pictures in her arms. One picture grabbed Spike's attention and he took it carefully from Faye's hand.

  
  


It was a photo of Spike. Or someone who looked like Spike. Younger, but brown-eyed and grinning in his navy blue school uniform buttoned up to the neck. He turned over the photo in his hand and scanned the back.

  
  


"Ezekiel." Spike said.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***Hi, guys. Just wanted to say that this is eventually going to end. Don't worry. I'm completely aware of how long it is but I don't want to end it improperly or abruptly. But I assure you, it WILL end! Thanks for the reviews. I absolutely love reading them!


	44. The Ballad Of Tom Jones

What did I do wrong?

Oh, you merely drove me cuckoo

Am I really all that bad?

You're worse than Hannibal Lector, Charlie Manson, Freddie Krueger

Why're we still together?

I can't leave until you're dead

You mean 'til death do us part?

I mean like cyanide, strangulation or an axe to your head  
  


It was lucky for us I turned the radio on

They say that music soothes the savage beast

There was something in that voice that stopped me seeing red

The two of us would surely have ended up dead  
  


You stopped us from killing eachother

You'll never know but you saved our lives

And I could never throw my knickers at you

And I don't come from Wales  
  


Still haven't solved our problems

You mean we hate eachother's gutts

Still want to poison your pizza

And I still want to cut off your nads  
  


I phoned the marriage guidance

I tied the phone line `round your neck

I'm sick of all this hatred

Oh, that would be the arsenic making you sick  
  


You were about to drive me over the edge of a cliff

As I tried to jump out I knocked the stereo on

You changed your mind and then slammed on the breaks

It was lucky for us we brought his greatest hits  
  


Now our war is over

I've lost the urge to break your neck

I owe my life to 'What's New Pussycat?"

'Delilah' stopped me hating you and wishing you're dead

I used to call you Satan

And you were Cruella Deville

But now you call me your Delilah

And now I'm not your Lucifer

And I am just a pussycat  
  


But just a word of warning now

Just in case we ever get tired of his voice

I know the mafia, Godzilla, King Kong

And I know an atom bomb that's going for a song  
  


You stopped us from killing eachother

You'll never know but you saved our lives

And I could never throw my knickers at you

And I don't come from Wales  
  


Jet reluctantly went back into the kitchen to make sure dinner hadn't completely burnt to a crisp. He left Spike and Faye in the middle of the eerily silent chaos that was her room. Faye knelt on the ground with photographs and letters falling from her arms. She was quietly sobbing. Spike stood over her, fascinated by the photograph. Faye felt as though she wanted the floor of the ship to open up and swallow her. She let the contents of her arms fall to the ground in a crumpled, moist pile before her and covered her face with her hands.  
  


"Is this a relative?"  
  


"No."  
  


"A boyfriend?"  
  


"I think so."  
  


Spike crouched down beside her, picking up one of the letters from the floor. A minty green envelope with a cat sticker on the lip that had once sealed it. It was scrawled on with what was identifiable as the handwriting of a male teenager. The letters sharp and jagged like they came out in a pour that threatened to race ahead of the thoughts of their master.

'Faye' the envelope read.  
  


"Ezekiel." Spike said. "What kind of a stupid name is that?" Trying to make a joke. Trying to wring her out and dry her off. Faye didn't move. He tried again. "So...this is a good thing, right? Finding someone from your past? It's a good thing." As though talking to a child. Saying things twice.  
  


Faye suddenly lashed out at the pile in front of her, sending paper and photos flying. She let out an agonized sob as they settled around her again.  
  


Spike sat down next to her amidst the remains of her scattered past and pulled two cigarettes from his jacket. He carefully placed them between his lips and lit them, handing one to Faye. Faye shrugged away from him for a moment but then thought better of it and took the smoke from his fingers.  
  


She inhaled deeply.


	45. Burn Out

A woman in yellow hot pants and black suspenders walked steadily and assuredly into Loredana's Hair Salon. She stepped up to the counter. The young receptionist looked up at her.

  
  


"Welcome to Loredana's. How may I help you?"

  
  


"You have a package here for me."

  
  


"Another package?" The girl poked her head under her desk. "What's going on today?"

  
  


The girl looked up at the woman in the yellow halter top. Her hair was cut in a blunt bob. Plum highlights. She noticed everyone's hair. A lot of customers had come in that day but there's no way she'd forget hair like that. "You already picked up that package, remember? You came in earlier this afternoon. That's the only thing we had for you."

  
  


Confused, the woman walked back out into the street. Where the hell was the package? She was supposed to come here and pick it up. She checked the address again and stepped back to look at the sign hanging over the awning. This was the place. Someone had picked up the package already? No, wait. She had picked up the package already. Faye had picked up the package already.

  
  


Dammit.

  
  


One of her stooges must have given the message to the wrong Faye. Shit. This was not good. She needed as much evidence as she could get her hands on. She felt as though she was going to kill somebody.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Rising in the East

And fading in the West

To the North and to sleep

At the close of day

The flame goes out

Only char left in the grave

Do you in dying

Become but a name?

  
  


I can see you're worn down

Weight upon your shoulders

All the joy you once had

Now is gone

Can't find what you wanted

Feeling lost in turmoil

Will you finally

Be free?

  
  


Out into the cold night

Stare into the dark sky

Do you see forever 

Or burn alive

Or linger in the half-light

Fade into the dark night

Do you find contentment?

Do you find your peace?

  
  


"Are you thinking of me right now? I'm thinking of you. But that shouldn't be news to you. I think about you almost every second. I dress for you, I eat for you, I sleep for you. Does that make me sound like a psychopath? I hope not. I'm writing this in History. I'd rather be sitting with you outside, under the trees, near the baseball diamond. This guy is doing a presentation right now. I'm very embarrassed for him. His face is so red and he's stuttering. I feel bad for him because no one is really paying any attention to his presentation. No one ever really pays attention to these things. 

  
  


"I've been thinking a lot about what you told me the other day. About how you want to be a teacher. I think that's a great idea. People always pay attention to you when you do presentations in class. But then you're so pretty, how can they not? Am I going on too much about you? That's because you're all I think about. It makes me sad, really. I'm wasting my time in school. I'm not terribly good at it and to top it all off I can't concentrate because you're on my mind 24 hours a day. I'm sorry. I sound like a mental case now. I should go. Speak to you soon. Ezekiel."

  
  


Faye folded the note in half and put it back in its envelope. She had moved the pile to her bed where she sat reading through all of them. 

  
  


Spike was seated on the floor with a small pile of his own. He had read through approximately five. Nothing special about them aside from the fact that they were ancient and they proved that there was someone in the universe who cared for Faye besides Faye. Notes written during school hours, probably stuck in lockers between periods. A few of them so far had actually been from other friends besides Ezekiel. The notes didn't tell Spike very much about him except that he was startlingly like Spike. It wasn't just his looks either. This boy hated school as much as Spike did. Spike smirked to himself when he thought back to all the times he managed to fall asleep sitting up in class. God, he had hated school. He got the hell out of there as soon as he could. 

  
  


He had already looked through the pile of photographs at Faye's feet. Faye seemed to be working up to them. She hadn't looked at them properly yet. Spike wasn't sure what was making her so uncomfortable. It's not like they had uncovered something dirty, like she used to be a pornstar, or she had murdered her parents. The pictures were perfectly normal ones. One of her on graduation day with what looked like her parents. A tall man with dark eyes and hair in a suit and a small Asian woman in a red mandarin dress. Faye herself was not much different from now. Well, aside from the cap and gown. Spike had never quite seen her with so many clothes on. Several pictures were of Ezekiel. Spike studied one photo in which he spotted an Enter the Dragon poster on the wall behind the boy. Too strange.

  
  


Faye didn't know what to think. This was too much for one day. Someone was following her. All this crazy stuff from her past shows up. Her comrades almost throw her out into the streets. Spike nearly murders her. She was very tired. And the photograph of Ezekiel was very disturbing. She knew exactly what Spike was thinking. This whole stupid crush thing was solved. She wasn't in love with Spike. She was just drawn to a memory from her past. But was that really the case? Faye wasn't really sure. Sure, the guy looked like Spike. Some of the wisecracks in his letters sounded like Spike. But this couldn't be where all these feelings were coming from, could they?

  
  


There was something between the two of them. She wasn't entirely sure what it was but she knew it was there. And she knew he was aware of it aswell. He couldn't have treated her so brutally, couldn't have let her hurt him so if it was otherwise. But Faye couldn't tell if this was friendship or something else.

  
  


She hadn't ever really had any friends to know any better.

  
  


She needed to kick some ass soon. She really needed to let off some steam.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	46. One Small Step

Jet didn't know why he hadn't thought to speak to her before. The Asian girl pushed her glasses up on her nose for the umpteenth time.

"Hrm...let's see. What can I tell you about this film? Well, Faye Valentine approached Akaido at some swanky party and pitched the whole thing to him as far as I know. That's the story that's been going around. That's all I really know. I don't know much about writers or screenplays or any of that other stuff. I'm just the girl with the clipboard and the watch." She chuckled.

Jet had to give Faye the benefit of the doubt.

"So does Faye hang around the set? You'd have seen her by now, right?" Jet felt his pockets for a pack of smokes. He found one and shook out a cigarette nervously.

The Asian girl nodded, "Oh, yeah. She's here all the time. She's been here since day one." She leaned close to Jet and added, "Rumour has it she's about to come into a lot of money. Her family's been looking for her. They're pretty wealthy, apparently. It's like friggin' Anastasia. They're looking for the lost daughter. I mean the parents are long gone but there's a sister looking for her. I think I had heard somewhere that the brother died about fifteen, or so, years ago. Stroke or something like that. You know how it is when you get old. Anything can take you down."

"So there's relatives looking for Faye Valentine?" Jet was so confused. He hadn't the foggiest idea what the hell was going on.

"Not just any relatives either. The Spectors. You've heard of them, right? They used to be into some heavy shit years ago. Mob stuff. The family came from Old America. All that money they have is probably blood money from through the years."

"The Spencers," Jet said to himself. So Faye's real name was Spector. Interesting. "So you say she's been here every day? When did you guys start filming?"

"Few weeks ago. We started doing all the setting up a few weeks ago. Maybe almost a month now. The days run into eachother when you're working on the set so it's hard for me to tell you exactly when, right? But, yeah, I'd have to say about a month."

So Faye couldn't be behind this. A few weeks ago she was hovering over Spike's hospital bed like a vulture. Something really fucked was going on.

The Asian girl glanced at her watch and referred to her clipboard, "Listen, I gotta go. And you gotta get going, too. You're wanted on the set. I wish I knew what the hell happened to all our stunt doubles." She started walking towards the mouth of the alley.

"Yeah, thanks," Jet said absently. He turned to walk down towards the opposite end of the alley.

"Hey," he heard her call.

"Yeah?" He turned to look at her. She was silhouetted by the sun.

"Where're your manners? Aren't you even gonna ask me my name?"

Jet smiled and shook his head. "What is it?"

"It's Ana."

"Like as in 'Anastasia'?" Jet smirked.

"No. Like as in Ana. Just Ana. And just so you know...I'm a lot older than I look."

Jet raised his eyebrows, eyes widening with surprise.

Looking as though she were pleasantly satisfied with his reaction, she turned away and waved a hand at him, "Come find me if you need any more questions answered."


	47. Interlude: I Am An Island Of Complexity

You're so beautiful to look at 

When you cry

Freeze

Don't move

You've been chosen as an extra

In the movie adaptation

Of the sequel to your life

  
  


Glance

Don't stare

Soon you're being told to recognize

Your errors

No

Not me

I'm an island of such great complexity

  
  


She cried for the son of a bitch. She stayed by his side and said prayers for him and swooned when he was close enough for her to smell.

  
  


Of course he watched her totally oblivious to this. She was ragged and wet from crying and thinking and reading. Her lipstick was gone and her eye makeup was almost everywhere except on her eyes. She was twisted in all different directions on top of the letters strewn across her mattress. She needed the sleep. What a day she's had.

  
  


Spike stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee burning between his palms. He brought it to his lips and took several scalding gulps, finishing it off sooner than he had wanted. He set the mug down on the ground outside of the door and pushed his hands in his pockets, wondering why he was still standing here like this looking at her.

  
  


Well, son of a bitch.

  
  


He liked looking at her.

  
  


Shocks of something moved through him when he watched her sleeping. He had been certain that it was just a weakness. He liked watching women sleep. They were so much less dangerous when they slept.

  
  


Like cats.

  
  


He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

  
  


He crossed the room in two strides, hunching over her with his hands still in his pockets. He bent as far over her as he could without hurting himself. His ribs burned and shifted inside him and the knife wound in his shoulder stretched in an awkward, painful way. He brought his hands from his pockets and brushed some hair from her face and back over her ear. When his skin brushed her just below her ear as he was bringing his hand back to his side, he blinked furiously. His breathing became shallow and crisp and the air bit his lungs. 

  
  


His tongue poked out of his mouth and wet his lips. He touched her cheek with the very tip of his nose.

  
  


No.

  
  


He straightened up and left the room.

  
  


Son of a bitch.

  
  
  
  



	48. Rest My Head Against The Wall

Okay, breathe.

  
  


Faye's eyes fluttered beneath their lids when she felt his presence exit the room. His breath was warm and dry and laden with the stink of cigarettes. She wanted to feel it again so badly. She lay still on her bed trying to understand what had almost happened. Wondered why it didn't happen. She finally leapt from the bed and crept down the hallway.

  
  


Spike hadn't gotten very far. He had come to a stop halfway down the corridor. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were in firm fists at his sides.

  
  


"Don't come near me." He said. Faye stopped in her tracks.

  
  


"Why?" She asked.

  
  


"Just don't, okay?" Why was he just standing there, then? He must want her to do something. She waited for further instruction.

  
  


Spike grabbed a fistful of his hair and stiffened. He was losing it again. In front of her. He started to walk away.

  
  


"Spike..." He was probably going to whip around and strangle her in a second. She walked carefully towards him. Suddenly, he barked, "Don't." Faye stopped breathing so that she could hear his own breaths leaving him in the form of fierce jerks of his shoulders. But her hand had taken on a life of its own and reached out to touch his arm.

  
  


He whirled around, snatching her fingers and giving them a nasty wrench. But just as suddenly as he had wanted to hurt her he pressed her into the wall and crushed her mouth with his own. He moaned through parted lips and tore at her ravenously. Her mouth opened against his. 

  
  


His fingers curled and dug themselves into her arms and Faye was certain he would leave his marks all over her. But Spike pulled away with the same ferocity that had propelled him towards her.

  
  


"Fuck!" He cried, throwing her from him and into the wall. She clutched her arm where she had struck it and fell to the ground. She turned her head the other way and listened to Spike charging down the corridor.

  
  


What the hell just happened?

  
  


She sat in a heap on the floor with moist eyes that should have been completely dried up by now after the day she'd had. She knew better than to follow him. She wasn't even certain whether or not she wanted to ever move from this spot. Her shoulder throbbed and she tried to feel offended by the actions that had led up to the bruise she was positive she'd find on her arm tomorrow but she didn't really feel anything.

  
  


Except that she wanted to do it all over again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	49. This Is Hardcore

You are the last drink I never should have drunk 

You are the body hidden in the trunk

You are the habit I can't seem to kick 

You are my secrets on the front page every week 

You are the car I never should have bought 

You are the dream I never should have caught 

You are the cut that makes me hide my face 

You are the party that makes me feel my age 

Like a car crash I can see but I just can't avoid   
Like a plane I've been told I never should board 

Like a film that's so bad but I've got to stay till the end 

Let me tell you now: it's lucky for you that we're friends. 

  
  
  
  


This would have been the time to fly. To get into the Swordfish and jet off into nowhere near here. But Spike still hadn't any idea where the hell his ship had gone to. He hadn't seen it since his last stand with Vicious. He was too preoccupied with other things. He was still getting over her death.

  
  


He had to stop saying that. He wasn't going to get over her death anytime soon. He stood in the hangar, still somewhat disoriented by the massive empty space where his ship should have been. He ran a hand through his tangled hair. He grazed his lower lip with the very tips of his fingers and crouched down near the ground.

  
  


Christ.

  
  


He couldn't pretend this wasn't happening to him. Something was drawing him to her. And he wasn't certain if that thing was inside himself or inside of her. And so many other questions needed to be answered and he just didn't have the head on him to do that. He rested his throbbing skull in his hands and felt as though he could fall asleep right here in the hangar. His eyelids felt heavy. He could taste the faintest hint of blood in his mouth where his teeth had collided with his lip during the kiss.

  
  


I could fucking murder her.

  
  


This was the only way he could rationalize his actions: she was a temptress who lured him into her web. But nothing had changed about her. She was still Faye. Cigar smoking, liquor sponging, compulsive gambler Faye. Something about himself must be the thing that's changed. Maybe the doctors fucked up his head, scrambled his brain, pumped the blood of some stranger into his veins. 

  
  


Some guy who was attracted to women like Faye.

  
  
  
  


***I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I certainly don't own the lyrics to Pulp's 'Like a Friend'......

  
  
  
  
  
  



	50. I'm a Man

I remember little things about my sister.  
  


Like that she loved going to rock concerts. She managed to sneak into a lot of over-age shows because of Dad's connections. She was pretty enough that she'd be summoned backstage almost every single time. I know this because she took me to a couple of shows with her and I used to have to sit at one of the tables and wait for her. I'd watch the waitresses make their ways around the club collecting empty bottles from the floor. I'd watch the stage guys take apart all the equipment. I'd watch all this while she was backstage. She was so beautiful. I wanted to be just like her.  
  


There are other things about my sister that I remember. I remember that her favourite colour was green. Like her eyes. I remember that she had great big green eyes like a cat's. And she had a little mouth like a red ribbon tied in a bow. There's a lot of other stuff I remember, too. But I won't bore you with the details.  
  


Of course, I'd certainly know her if I saw her again. I hear stories about how she hasn't changed since the accident. I hope this is true. It wasn't fair what happened to her. The best years of her life and she missed them. I hope she's living a new life. Happy. With a husband maybe. And some kids.  
  


It's weird to think that I may see her soon and she will be younger than me. She was always the big sister. I always looked up to her. I wonder sometimes if I should even be spending all this money to find her. I thought originally that she would want to know that she had some family. So that she wouldn't feel like she was completely alone in the universe. But I've heard that she may not have recovered any memories of life before the accident. Am I just brewing trouble by trying to contact her? I want her to meet my children. My grandchildren.   
  


I want her to know what became of us.  
  
  
  


* * *  
  


Laid here

With the advertising sliding past my eyes

Like cartoons from other people's lives

I start to wonder

What it takes to be a man  
  


Well I learned to drink

And I learned to smoke

And I learned to tell a dirty joke

If that's all there is then there's no point for me

So please can I just why we're alive?

`Cos all that you do seems such a waste of time

And if you hang around too long

You'll be a man  
  


Your car can get up to a hundred and ten

You've nowhere to go but you'll go there again

And nothing ever makes no difference

To a man  
  


The water rose and he inhaled the steam deeply. He shouldn't really be taking a bath but he figured it was probably time to change the dressing on his wounds. The gauze was completely solid with dried blood but underneath everything was moist and tender. Skin peeling back and stitches pulled to their extent. A couple of them had popped as he removed the bandages. This was probably a bad idea altogether but he had never been one to question his actions.  
  


He eased himself into the steaming water, wincing as the water ran in and out of his sores. Scalding and turning his skin red almost immediately. But he figured this was a good and cleansing pain. He reached across and picked up his razor from the chair he had set by the bathtub that also had a cigarette, his lighter, and a towel sitting on it. He splashed some water at his face with his free hand and dragged the razor along his jawline. This was sort of nice. No wonder Faye was always in here.  
  


Again. Thinking about her.  
  


The razor slipped out of his grasp and sank to the bottom of the tub. He cursed Faye's name as his hand dipped into the water and felt along the floor of the tub for the lost razor.  
  


Fuck!  
  


He found it.  
  


He looked carefully at the palm of his hand that had landed smack on top of the stupid fucking thing. He stared at it for a few seconds until a tiny spot of red grew so that he could see it. He had seen enough of his blood this past little while to last him a lifetime but...  
  


Julia.  
  


Suddenly he completely broke down. He threw the razor to the floor, tilted his head back against the lip of the tub and howled. He felt tears stinging his eyes and crushed his hands against them. He sunk down below the water and thought about drowning himself. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling through the distorted view the grey water created for him. This is how things should have looked all the time now that she was gone. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why wasn't he dead yet? This wasn't fucking fair.  
  


Do you hear me? This isn't fucking fair.  
  


And Faye. Faye was the cruellest bit. She wasn't a bad person. But she wasn't the right person. In this story she isn't the one who is supposed to be taking her place. I'm supposed to be dead. That's how this story was supposed to end. With me dying and at peace and possibly sitting up on a fucking cloud with little wings and a fucking harp and Julia sitting beside me. That's how this story was supposed to end. I'm not supposed to be fucking in love with ----  
  


Oh, shit.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I don't own the lyrics from Pulp's 'I'm a Man'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
